


How To Tame Your Dimitri - A Step by Step Guide by Claude von Riegan

by Grumpy_Cupcake



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Sorry Not Sorry, THIS IS NO LONGER SHORT WTF, This is now turning into a route merge and I did not intend for this to happen, This is very short and very dumb and i regret nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpy_Cupcake/pseuds/Grumpy_Cupcake
Summary: A step by step guide to taming your Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, by one Claude von Riegan.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 138
Kudos: 249





	1. Step One - Deploy Head Scratches When Necessary

**Author's Note:**

> This is short. 
> 
> This is dumb. 
> 
> This is pure self indulgence. 
> 
> I regret nothing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step one to taming your Dimitri: head scratches are essential for when he is in a feral mood.

Claude sighs, and rubs his temples as he looks over the battle plans laid out on the war table for what feels like the fiftieth time. The one thing his grandfather had never mentioned before popping his clogs was how hard it is to run an army.

To say that Claude's making things up as he goes would be an understatement.

He moves a white chess piece forward, and surrounds it by three black pieces. Normally, he would loathe to cause one of his soldiers to become swarmed by enemy units, but he has total faith in this particular person: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, exiled prince from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. He has already proven himself to be an absolute beast on the battlefield, cutting down enemies with only a single slash from his lance, so taking on three at time shouldn’t be an issue.

But, just to be safe, Claude positions someone close by who can jump in to help if needed.

Of course, this is all just speculation. Real life battlefields don’t follow set rules and aren’t played like a chess board. They are messy and unpredictable, and anything can happen. Especially when the Imperial Army is involved, led by the Emperor herself, Edelgard von Hresvelg. Meeting at Gronder Field will be interesting when they set off at the end of the month.

“Claude? A moment, please?”

Claude looks up from his plans to see Hilda standing on the other end of the table, arms folded across her chest as she examines the war plans.

“Hilda? What’s up?” Claude stretches his back out, not realising how sore he is from being hunched over the table for a few hours.

“It’s about Dimitri. He’s being all feral again.” Hilda starts fiddling with the pieces. “I’ll finish up here. You seem to be the only one who can tame him.”

“Tame him? You make him sound like a wild animal.” Claude laughs. “I’ll go see to him. Is he in the Cathedral?”

Hilda shakes her head. “Training ground. He’s destroying nearly every straw dummy there is. You should probably check in on him before there’s none left.”

Thanking her, Claude sets off from the war room. As he descends down the stairs, he thinks back to when he first reunited with him a few months ago. He had been unrecognisable from when he was a student: his golden hair now a greasy mess that reaches his shoulders, the gentle and calming voice now gruff and hoarse, and his missing right eye buried underneath an eye patch. But it’s his new height that Claude can’t quite get his head around. As students, Dimitri was only a few centimetres taller, hardly worth talking about. But now he towers over nearly everyone, and has bulked out to the point where he can snap a silver lance with one hand.

Many people have tried to “calm him down”, including his childhood friends, but only Claude has been successful.

Mainly because he knows the secret tricks.

Outside, people are making preparations for the march to Gronder Field. The atmosphere of the place is incredibly positive, as soldiers from the Kingdom and Alliance armies train together with the Church of Seiros. What was once a desolate place after being abandoned for five years now feels like a welcoming place to be. The fresh spring weather bringing about new flowers just adds to the overall warm feeling.

There is also talk of taking back the Kingdom capital after winning the battle of Gronder Field. No-one is even thinking about the possibility of losing such an important fight.

Claude has his doubts, but keeps them to himself so as not to ruin the morale. It’s taken this long for it to be this cheerful. He’d hate to be the one to bring it back down.

At the training ground, Claude can hear Dimitri before he can see him. The “boarish grunts of a wild animal”, as Felix would say, can be heard from a few feet away. As he pushes open the door, he can see the boar prince in question slicing through an empty cloth bag. The contents are already strewn about the floor. Not wanting to approach Dimitri whilst he is in this state, Claude stands back a few feet and begins to whistle.

Dimitri stops mid slash, seemingly transfixed on the noise. Carefully edging forwards, making sure that he is in Dimitri’s peripheral vision, Claude continues to whistle and holds out a hand. When he is in touching distance, he reaches up and starts rubbing a certain spot on Dimitri’s head.

The result is instantaneous.

Dimitri drops the lance and collapses to his knees, leaning into Claude’s touch. Claude kneels down next to him, still whistling his song. It has no meaning, being something he made up, but for whatever reason it always calms Dimitri down when he is in his feral mood.

As the song ends, Claude smiles at the sound of Dimitri purring. He reminds him of a cat: outwardly hostile to everyone, but completely docile when being fussed.

“Nice to see you outside the Cathedral.” Claude says as he strokes Dimitri’s hair. “I was beginning to think that you would never venture out of your volition.”

“They were there... Father... Stepmother... Glenn... I needed to get away from them.” Dimitri grunts, turning his head slightly to face Claude. “I had to leave.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. You’ve saved me from those damned war plans.” Claude continues to scratch Dimitri’s head, laughing as he melts under the touch. “Before you get too comfortable, let’s go sit on a bench.”

Getting to his feet, Claude dusts the sand off his clothes as Dimitri heaves himself up and shuffles over to the nearest bench. As soon as Claude sits down next to him, he rests his head on his lap. The first time he had done this, Claude had been taken by surprise at the sudden weight on his legs. But now, after months of being together, he merely resumes running his fingers through Dimitri’s hair. They sit in near silence, the only sound coming from Dimitri as he continues to hum in contentment.

After about ten minutes, Dimitri breaks the silence.

“Thank... Thank you for... For coming to find me. You always seem to know what to do.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll always help you out, Dimitri.” Claude looks down at the man on his lap, his heart full of love. “I promise.”


	2. Step Two - Be Gentle With Your Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Two - Show your Dimitri some much needed affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried whilst writing this.

_Lone Moon_

Claude is incredibly late for the promised reunion at Garreg Mach, and he hates it.

Just before he was due to set off towards the monastery in order to fulfil a five-year promise, a sudden invasion from the Empire put all plans on halt. Sending a letter of apology by owl to Garreg Mach in the hopes that someone will receive it, he headed south to the Great Bridge of Myrddin to help prevent the invasion. The battle barely resulted in an Alliance victory, but there were fears that the Empire would try again. Because of this, Claude stayed at the fort for to help bolster the defences and fix any cracks in the structure that could be used as a weakness. He only left after there were no further invasions. His spies had informed him that Emperor Edelgard is currently preparing for another attempt, and would leave Enbarr by the end of the month.

Hoping to gain more troops for the army, Claude had flown to Garreg Mach to see if he could gain support of the Church of Seiros. As he got closer, he found the monastery was bustling and full of life, indicating that despite his absence, everyone else had met up as promised and was building an army to fight back.

*

“Claude von Riegan! There you are!”

Claude has barely enough time to dismount his wyvern before he is engulfed in rib-crushing embrace. He is overwhelmed by the sweet and floral perfume of one of his closest friends, Hilda Valentine Goneril.

“Sorry I'm late.” Claude says, returning the hug. “Did you get my letter?”

“I did. I tried to get back over and help out, but the Empire set their sights on taking back Garreg Mach. We’ve managed to hold them off, but we’ve not been able to march out. At least, not yet.” She giggles, like she knows a secret that Claude doesn't. “Turns out that not everybody is not happy with this new Dukedom that has been formed. Both Fraldarius and Gautier territories have been fighting back over the past five years. And a few of the old Blue Lions have returned for the millennium festival. And Duke Fraldarius is here with extra troops.”

“Thank the Goddess. I was about to ask how everything is going.” Claude gives his wyvern a few affectionate pats. The beast happily stretches out, its wings nearly taking out two monks walking past.

“Lorenz is very good at whipping people into shape, and I’ve helped out quite a bit. Duke Fraldarius in charge of the Kingdom soldiers. Makes sense, I suppose.” Hilda starts to sway from side to side, a sly grin on her face. “But things would run a lot smoother if a certain prince wasn’t holed up inside the Cathedral.”

Claude stops fussing his wyvern, his hand resting underneath its chin. The last thing he heard about Dimitri was that he was dead, executed for the crime of killing his uncle. Claude hadn’t believed for a second that Dimitri was guilty, but the news was shocking all the same.

_I’ve gone five years thinking that Dimitri is dead._

_Surely he can’t be here right now..._

_But if Hilda says he is..._

“Dimitri... He’s alive?” Claude whispers, his voice so quiet that he doubts Hilda heard him properly.

“He managed to escape his execution all those years ago, and has been on the run ever since. He’s in the Cathedral right now, his usual haunting place. Just to warn you, though... He always carries Areadbhar with him, so don’t startle him too much. And he has changed drastically since the last time you met. Be careful.” Hilda takes the wyvern by the reins. “I’ll take care of this little beauty. Yes, let’s go get you some special treats.” She starts using baby talk as she leads the beast away, leaving Claude alone in the stables. The area is empty, save for a few horses being inspected. Nodding a brief greeting to the soldiers, who are wearing the uniform of the Alliance, he starts walking through the campus of the old Academy. Although he is eager to see Dimitri again, he can't deny the nervous feeling in his stomach. To be reuniting with the man he thought was dead for five years is one thing, to be told that he is different from the kind and earnest prince he knew as a student...

Anything could happen.

*

Outside the cathedral, a monk steps out in front of Claude and holds his arms out to block the route in.

“Are you going to see... Him?”

“Yes.” Claude says as he peers through a gap in the doors. “Is he here?”

“He is, but he is also a savage beast. No one can approach him. Either they just get told to go away, or they narrowly avoid being cut down by that Hero’s Relic of his. Are you positively certain you want to see him?”

Claude firmly nods, his eyes not leaving the interior of the Cathedral. 

“I am.”

The monk clasps his hands together in a silent prayer, his head bent and eyes closed.

“If you manage to find a way to tame him, then the people will not be so afraid to enter the Cathedral. Please, sir, do what you can. But if it gets too dangerous, retreat to the outside. The prince doesn’t seem to venture beyond the four walls.” The monk steps aside, allowing Claude to enter the ruins.

Standing at the front, bathed in sunlight shining through the hole in the roof, is Dimitri. His hair is down to his shoulders and he has grown a few inches over the years, but Claude still recognises him as the boy he once loved.

He makes his way up the Cathedral, walking slowly to give Dimitri plenty of time to react to his presence. Sure enough, once Claude is halfway up the aisle, Dimitri tightens his grip on Areadbhar. The blade of the weapon glows a vibrant red. 

“Go away.” Dimitri growls, his back still to Claude.

Claude comes a halt a few feet away from Dimitri. With Failnaught safely in his saddlebag, he kneels down to remove the hidden dagger from his boot. He throws it away from him, the clattering sound echoing throughout the empty room.

“Don't be like this, Dimitri. What if I wanted to see your pretty face again?” He calls out, trying to sound confident and carefree even though he is on edge and ready to run at the slightest hint of danger.

The sound of Claude’s voice seems to jolt Dimitri from his daze, and he turns to face him. His expression softens for a brief second before being replaced by a glare of pure hatred. 

“Edelgard sent you, didn’t she? I should probably kill you here and now. Send your corpse back to the Empire.”

“I don’t think the Alliance would approve of my death. Plus I am rather fond of living.” Claude risks taking a step forward. “I am here of my own free will. I have no connection to the Empire. In fact, they’ve been trying to invade for the past few months now.” 

“Then what do you want? Come to scoff at a fallen prince who lost his own Kingdom?!” Dimitri snaps, covering the distance between them in three steps and grabbing hold of the black cape over Claude's right shoulder. “Well? Go ahead! Laugh! Laugh at the boar prince who has lost everything!”

Claude takes a moment to calm his erratic breathing. Up close, Dimitri is even more terrifying. The patch over his right eye adds to his overall feral appearance, and the dark circle under his other eye suggests that he hasn’t had a proper night’s sleep in a very long time. Slowly, so as not to aggravate Dimitri even more, Claude raises a hand and places it gently over the one gripping his cape.

“No, I’m not laughing. I wanted to see you, no matter who you've become.” Claude pats Dimitri’s hand. “I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

And he did. Every night for a year after Dimitri’s supposed execution, Claude cried himself to sleep. Even know, years later, he carries around a memento he had received from the prince of the night of the Ethereal Moon ball: a small broach in the shape of a lion. He had given Dimitri a broach in the shape of a deer, as a promise to always been allies when they ruled their respective countries.

Claude tugs at a chain around his neck to reveal the broach, still as shiny as the day he got it.

“I intend to keep my promise, Dimitri. Push me away all you want, but I am not going anywhere.”

“That... You still have it?” Dimitri lowers his head, his hair covering his face. “I lost mine when I was thrown into the Faerghus Palace dungeons. It is probably still there now.”

“I can commission for a new one to made for you.” Claude reaches up with his free hand to rest it on the back of Dimitri’s head. “I mean it when I say that I am not going anywhere. The Kingdom and the Alliance... We have always been allies, and together we will take down the Empire."

Areadbhar falls to the ground as Dimitri hesitantly moves a hand to rest it on Claude’s other shoulder.

“You really mean it, Claude? You... You won’t abandon me?”

“I mean it, Dima.” Claude brings their heads together so their foreheads are touching. “I won’t ever abandon you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter of "The Official Officers Academy Group Chat" is in the works! I just want to meet the rat children first so that I have some ideas of their personalities. 
> 
> All I know is that I would die for Balthus.


	3. Step Three - Shower Him With Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Three - When times are tough, show some much needed love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever done something so sappy and fluffy that you make yourself cry at how soft these boys are?
> 
> I have.

_Great Tree_ _Moon_

Claude is stirred from his slumber by the sound of someone hammering on his door. Half asleep, he hurls himself out of bed and reaches for the dimly lit candle still resting on his desk. The sun is beginning to show above the horizon, bringing with it the promise of a picture perfect spring day.

A shame, then, that this is the day the combined Alliance and Kingdom armies march south to face the Imperial army. If everything goes according to plan, they should clash at Gronder Field. Everyone has been doubling down on their training to ensure that they are prepared. If they lose, then both the Kingdom and Alliance will fall and Emperor Edelgard is free to take over both countries and unite them under her banner.

Failure is not an option.

Gripping the candle holder in one hand, Claude slowly opens his bedroom door. In the dim light, he can just make out a towering figure standing on the other side. It’s only when he lifts the candle higher that he recognises his unexpected visitor.

Dimitri.

“Dimitri, are you alright? Are they with you again?” He cautiously holds out his spare hand, letting Dimitri meet him halfway. True to form, he leans down and rests his face against the hand. He lets out a tired sigh as he reaches up and links their fingers together.

“Are we really heading down to Gronder Field?” He asks, his voice scarcely louder than a whisper. “Are we going to meet up with... With her? I don’t know if I can contain myself if I see her again.”

“We begin the march, but we’re not likely to arrive for a couple of days. I’ve told you before, you can wait here if you don’t think you can handle it.” Claude rubs a thumb over Dimitri’s cheek. “We still have Lord Rodrigue with us.”

Dimitri shakes his head, his good eye beginning to water. Claude steps to the side to allow Dimitri to enter, and closes the door behind him. He has just enough time to place the candle back onto his desk before he is engulfed in a tight embrace.

It is not the first time Dimitri has hugged him. Back when they were students, they often exchanged quick hugs before and after mock battles, with the occasional arm thrown over a shoulder during the more light-hearted months.

But this...

This is different.

This is Dimitri admitting that he needs help.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Claude, facing her on the battlefield. I have worked so hard on moving away from the darkness.” Dimitri tightens his grip, his calloused fingers clinging onto the back of Claude’s undershirt. “I fear that if I see her, I will lose myself and transform back into an animal.”

Claude silently returns the hug, burying his head into Dimitri’s shoulder. He knows all too well what it is like to be betrayed by someone close to him, though fortunately it happened a long time ago. Seeing the emotional turmoil that Dimitri is going through, he vows to put a stop to it.

“We will see this war right to the end, Dima. I promise you.” Claude rests his head against Dimitri’s. “I will not let anyone close to us die. This extends to our classmates. We wouldn’t be here without them.”

Something wet lands on Claude’s shoulder, and it isn’t long before his shirt is damp with tears. He can only hold Dimitri as he finally allows himself to cry, releasing months (or even years) of pent up trauma.

He made a promise to always help Dimitri out and to never abandon him, and he intends to keep that promise.

“Come on, Your Princeliness. Let’s get you to bed.” Claude guides Dimitri to his bed, taking care not to trip over anything. Walking backwards is difficult enough on its own, but the added weight of a six-foot-two man clinging onto him is making is a lot more challenging. At the side of his bed, Claude positions them so that they fall onto the bed sideways, in order to avoid a premature demise from being crushed to death by Dimitri's weight. They lay there on Claude’s bed, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Dimitri’s sobs slowly subside into muffled hiccups, and soon he falls quiet as he drifts off to sleep. Claude rests his forehead against Dimitri’s, and closes his eyes in an attempt to catch some sleep before the march begins.

“I’ll always be there for you, Dimitri. Remember that.”

*

The march from Garreg Mach towards Gronder Field is a sombre affair. The combined armies leave at seven in the morning from the monastery and head straight into the Leicester Alliance, making their way south towards the Great Bridge of Myrddin. The sun is high in the sky when they make their first rest stop, wordlessly eating their lunch rations and tending to their mounts.

Claude strolls through the Alliance camp, keeping his head high in an attempt to inspire confidence in his troops. He knows, deep down, that there will be a heavy loss of life. He, himself, might meet his end out on the battlefield. He has made peace with that a long time ago, and left detailed instructions in both Derdriu and the monastery for what to do with his body once the dust has settled: burn his corpse and return his ashes to his parents in Almyra.

Not that he's put much faith is his wishes being carried out, If he’s lucky, he’ll be dumped into a mass grave along with the other dead. But the knowledge that he has made his wishes known are enough for him to make peace with death, because even with the combination of the Alliance and Kingdom forces, they are still vastly under-prepared. The Imperial army has greater numbers and it better trained, and are being led by the Emperor herself who will stop at nothing until she's won. 

Securing a victory will not be easy task. 

Running a hand through his hair, Claude stops at the invisible barrier between his army and the Kingdom army. He spots Dimitri miserably tucking into some meat jerky. He hasn’t said a word since they woke up on Claude’s bed. Not even Felix’s half-hearted insults can snap him out of his mood. Claude is about to make his way over to him when the call to continue marching comes from Lord Rodrigue, prompting everyone to pack up their belongings and prepare for the final push to the Great Bridge of Myrddin.

*

As the sun finishes its descent behind the hills, Claude sits outside his commander’s tent, fine tuning the string on Failnaught. Because of the intense power of the bow, only the strongest and most flexible of materials can be used. For this battle, he chose a fresh string made from the silk of the Almyran Red Spot Spider. The silk is strongest substance known to man, but is also incredibly light and able to withstand immense pressure.

And very hard to come by. 

Perfect for a Heroes’ Relic.

The armies are camping outside the Great Bridge of Myrddin, making sure that they remain firmly on Alliance soil. A few souls are wandering around the otherwise deserted camp, saying their prayers to the Goddess and writing instructions on what to do in the event of their death. Claude hears footsteps approaching him, and he doesn’t need to look up to know that it is Dimitri. Satisfied with his work, he gets to his feet and gives Dimitri a small smile. 

“I couldn’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I hear their dying screams. They want her head. They want it so badly.” Dimitri sighs, his whole body shaking. Areadbhar seems to respond to him, vibrantly gleaming under his touch. “No matter how many people die at the hands of Areadbhar, they are never fulfilled. They only want her blood.”

“I’ve lost count of how many people I have cut down with Failnaught. I gave up within the first year of this war.” Claude takes hold of Dimitri’s hand. “Do you want spend the night with me?”

Dimitri nods his head, his hair falling out of its loose ponytail. Claude leads him into his tent, taking Areadbhar and locking it safely away with Failnaught inside a chest. As he tucks the necklace with the key on it down his night shirt, Dimitri catches his hand to look at the broach once again.

“When this is over, I will make you a new one, Dima.” Claude kisses Dimitri’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. A golden deer from your own Golden Deer." 

"I'd like that..." 

Claude remembers how surprised Dimitri had been when he presented the deer broach during their meeting at the Goddess Tower. The smile that followed after is something that he has carried with him through the war. To see that smile again is all he wants. He settles down on his bedroll, Dimitri flopping down next to him and latching onto him like a hermit crab. As he pulls the blankets around them, Claude reaches out to cup Dimitri's face.

“Try and get some sleep, okay? We have a... A difficult day ahead of us.” Claude presses another kiss onto Dimitri’s forehead, but lingers for a few seconds before pulling away. “No matter what happens, know that I love you. And I always will.”

“... I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are so soft...
> 
> I love them.
> 
> Anyway, I have finished Cindered Shadows!
> 
> I will still lay down my life for Balthus. 
> 
> He is only a year older than me, as well! (Pre-timeskip, anyway).


	4. Step Four - Promise You'll Never Die (Even When You Nearly Do)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Four - Make sure no harm befalls your boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY

Gronder Field is a bloodbath.

Claude observes the scene from his wyvern as he soars over the battleground. So far, it is impossible to tell who is going to win. Initially, the combined Alliance and Kingdom forces took some damage when the Imperial army launched a surprise Meteor attack. But with the mages taken care off and the central hill now ablaze, the armies are more or less balanced. The only way to turn the tides is to demoralise the opposition.

The plan that Claude made earlier in the month, as well as the work that went into “taming” Dimitri, had gone out the window as soon as the prince had laid eyes on Edelgard. Instead of the subdued young man who is trying to move on from his past, he is now the blood thirsty monster he feared he’d become. Claude hovers above him, ready to intervene if needed. Firing off a couple of arrows at some cavalry units, he glances around the field to scope out the area. What he sees next fills him with dread.

Dimitri is cutting down a mage who is desperately trying to fire off a Nosferatu spell, his back turned to an Imperial assassin rapidly approaching him. Claude fires off an arrow to try and stop them, but they merely jump to the side to avoid being hit. Panicking, Claude acts on instinct and urges his wyvern on, aiming straight for the space between Dimitri and his would-be killer. As soon as the wyvern is low enough to the ground, Claude pulls back the string of Failnaught and launches another arrow. He lets out a string of expletives as he watches the enemy dodge out the way a second time. Leaping from the saddle, he lands on the ground just in time to receive a sword through his stomach.

The air is knocked out of his lungs as the sword slices through his torso. He is momentarily stunned as he watches the blood, _his blood_ , flow from his new wound and stain his clothes. The blade is yanked out with little finesse, causing him to fall to his knees with one hand pressed over his wound and the other still holding onto Failnaught. Somewhere far away, he hears the roar of an enranged animal and the sounds of someone being brutually killed.

“Claude? Claude! Oh Gods, no!”

Feeling faint from the blood loss, Claude finds himself landing in the arms of an incredibly distraught Dimitri. He reaches out with a bloody hand to tuck some loose hair behind his ears.

“Dima, you’re safe. You’re okay.” Claude coughs, blood trickling down his chin. He curses himself for not taking down the enemy when he had two opportunities to do so. He knows that without urgent medical attention, he will die right here in Dimitri’s arms. Failnaught drops to the ground as he reaches up with his other hand to cup Dimitri’s face. “Promise me, Dima. Win this war. Not just for me, but you as well.”

“No! I will not let you die here!” Dimitri yells, tears forming in his eye. “Not like this!” He clamps a hand over the wound, crying out for a healer to help him. Claude rubs his thumbs over Dimitri’s cheeks, leaving bloody streaks. Using the last ounce of his strength, he pulls himself up, wincing in pain. He manages to give Dimitri one final, bittersweet kiss before unconsciousness takes over and he goes limp in Dimitri’s arms.

*

When Claude slowly regains consciousness, he registers three things:

One: that he is alive. Somehow, despite everything, he has survived the Battle at Gronder Field. Nothing short of a miracle could have saved his life from such an intense wound.

Two: how much pain he is in. Just gently pressing a finger down on his stomach is enough to send a jolt of pain through his nerves. His hand drops back to his side as he waits for the feeling to pass.

Three: something is gripping onto his hand with seemingly no intent to let go. Slowly, he forces his eyes to open, his vision blurry. All he can make out are blinding lights and indeterminate shapes. His eyes close again on their own accord, not used to the sudden brightness. He lays still on the soft mattress he find himself on as unconsciousness takes over. 

When he reawakens, everything hurts slightly less than before. He is still in complete agony, but at least he can keep his eyes open. The room he's in appears to be a medical bay of sorts, far too advanced to be in a tent in the middle of a field. Evening light is shining through the window to his left, and to his right...

_Dimitri..._

Dimitri is sitting in an armchair of sorts, hunched over the bed. The steady rise and fall of his back suggests that he is asleep, albeit not peacefully. Slowly, so as not to cause himself anymore discomfort, Claude lifts a hand out to run his hands through the blonde hair he thought he'd never see again. Almost instantly, Dimitri is awake and cupping Claude’s face with his hands. His eye is puffy and bloodshot, a tell-tale sign that he has been crying.

“C-Claude? You... _You..._ You’ve come back.” Dimitri sobs as he leans over and smothers Claude in kisses, whispering prayers and thanks to the Goddess in between each kiss. Claude allows him to do so, as a) he’s just as thankful to be alive as Dimitri is, and b) if their positions had been switched around, he’d be doing the exact same thing. The barrage of kisses ends with Dimitri hurling Claude upright and wrapping his arms around him, clinging on like his life depended on it.

“Dimitri, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I nearly left you.” Claude says, wincing at the sudden surge of pain coursing through his body. He tries to hug Dimitri, to let him know that he is okay, but his limbs feel like jelly. All he can do is rest his head against Dimitri’s shoulders and hope that it is enough to convey his feelings. “I couldn’t sit there and do nothing.”

“I have plated armour that is capable of withstanding most attacks. You haven’t!” Dimitri snaps, pulling of the hug and squishing Claude’s face in his hands. “I could have taken that attack! You didn’t have to do it for me! You didn’t... You shouldn’t have...” Tears now flowing freely, Dimitri wraps Claude up in another crushing embrace. “Don’t ever do that to me again, understand? When you went still, it was as though part of me had just died. I could only watch helplessly as the clerics tried to save your life. I felt like I couldn’t go on without you. I _can’t_ go on without you.”

“Gods, I’m so sorry. I reacted without thinking.” Claude buries his head into Dimitri’s neck. “Who won?”

“We did. Edelgard and the Empire withdrew from the battle. As soon as you were down, the Alliance army started an all-out attack. The Kingdom quickly joined in, and the Imperial forces were completely overwhelmed. Edelgard herself called for the retreat when she saw what was happening. She must have taken some nasty injuries, as reports say that she was severally limping as she ran away.” Dimitri pulls back enough to give Claude another kiss. “Afterwards, I took you straight back to Myrddin, where we are now. It’s been four days since, nearly five.”

“And... Everyone else? Our classmates?”

“Safe. As are our Relics, and your wyvern.” Dimitri smiles down at Claude, stroking his cheek with a calloused thumb. “They have all returned to Garreg Mach to prepare for our march to Fhridiad. We’re going to retake our home. And I want you to be there with me, by my side.”

Fhirdiad, the Kingdom capital. Claude remembers hearing the news that the Kingdom had fallen and was now being rebranded as the Faerghus Dukedom. Only the Fraldarius and Gauiter territories opposed this change. To think that he would be involved in recovering the lost capital and restoring the Kingdom to its former glory.

And he would do it with Dimitri at his side.

Claude smiles weakly as he starts to drift off in Dimitri’s arms. With his near fatal wound, he will not be able to be in the front lines for some time. Probably for the remainder of the war. He’ll definitely not be able to do his usual aerial stunts from atop his wyvern, firing arrows from Failnaught with relative ease.

But he still wants to be there the moment the Kingdom returns to its rightful king.

“Sounds like a date, then.” He sighs contently as he closes his eyes and falls asleep in the arms of the man he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SAID I'M SORRY


	5. Step Five - Make A Promise You Intend To Keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Five - Do what it takes to not break your boy's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is twice as long as it I intended it to be. 
> 
> Ooopsie. 
> 
> I also finished this at one in the morning, so apologies for any crappiness that has filtered through my sleep deprived brain.

The Great Bridge of Myrddin is a desolate place.

True, there are the soldiers who are stationed at the bridge to prevent an attack from the Empire, but they are all too busy with their tasks to stop and talk. Claude paces across the walkway, unable to sleep due to a combination of a nagging pain in his abdomen and the plans for how they are going to take Fort Merceus in the Empire. It has been three days since he woke up from his near-death experience at Gronder Field, and the wounds are still giving him grief. The healers have prescribed him painkillers, but they cause him to feel drowsy. He can’t be feeling sleepy, not when the war is slowly turning back in his favour.

His mind needs to be razor sharp for the upcoming months. Now that he has been banned from fighting for the remainder of the war, however long it may be, he has instead become the army’s tactician. The lives of thousands of people now rest in his hands.

Looking out at the horizon at the rising sun, Claude pulls his blanket tighter around him. Despite the spring weather, there is a still a chill in the morning air. Not enough to warrant a thick cloak, but still enough for a light blanket. From this high up, he can see over both the Alliance and the Empire. To the north, covered by a thick band of black clouds, is Derdriu. To the south, way beyond the now-destroyed Gronder Field, is Enbarr. Claude has only heard stories about the Imperial capital from Edelgard. To think he would soon be marching into it and facing off against her...

“There you are. I was looking for you.”

Claude doesn't resist the smile that spreads across his face as Dimitri wraps his arms around his shoulders and kisses his cheek. Ever since Gronder, Dimitri has shown no restraint in his affection. Not that Claude minds. He will take this overly affectionate version of Dimitri over the untamed one.

_Untamed_...

Claude wouldn’t say that Dimitri is _completely_ back to normal. Only yesterday, when a small faction of the Imperial army set out on a suicide mission in an attempt to take the bridge, Dimitri had snapped back into his frenzied mode and slaughtered the lot of them single-handedly. He didn’t even have Areadbhar, which has been shipped back the monastery. All he had were his bare hands and a silver lance.

He massacred the lot of them.

He had immediately regretted his actions, saying that he lost control of himself and his emotions. Claude wasted no time in letting Dimitri know that it wasn't his fault, that everyone has bad days from time to time. There was still some work that needed to be done, and he would support Dimitri every step of the way.

“I'm just thinking about how we’re going to take Fort Merceus. It’s clear we won’t be able to get into Enbarr without taking it first. I have been spending an hour trying to come up with something, but all my plans seem as far-fetched as the last.”

Indeed, when Claude first ventured outside, the sky was still a deep blue. Now, with the sun beginning to appear behind the mountains, it is changing into a beautiful sea of oranges and pinks. The journey back towards Garreg Mach will begin as soon as their convoy is ready to travel. The initial plan was to fly back to the monastery with the Kingdom’s pegasus knights. But as Claude is still unsteady on his feet and Dimitri isn’t the best at flying, they will instead be travelling by horseback aided by royal guards. 

“Always three steps ahead of everyone else, I see. Heh, I’m lucky to have you on my side. I dread to think what would have happened had we been on opposites sides of the war.” Dimitri brushes back Claude’s hair and lightly kisses his forehead. “I wouldn’t be here, for starters. But let’s not think about that. Come on, I think Lord Rodrigue is ready to move.”

Claude takes hold on Dimitri’s hand and follows him back into the barracks. He tries to not think about what would have happened had he faced Dimitri at Gronder Field. It would have likely unfolded in a drastically different way. He doubts that Dimitri would have recognised him, or at the very least wouldn’t have cared. Claude's death would have meant nothing to him.

He has never been on to put faith in the Goddess, or the existence of miracles, but reuniting with Dimitri when he did is nothing short of the Goddess’s work.

*

With the sun now visible and the sky a cloudless blue, the royal convoy travels across the Leicester Alliance towards Garreg Mach. Two Great Knights ride in front, followed by Claude and Dimitri, then Lord Rodrigue, and the two more Holy Knights behind him. The weather is promising to be sunny and clear all day, and the light breeze provides some welcome coolness to the increasing warmth. Because there is no large army to worry about, progress is reasonably quick, though not as fast as it could have been due to fears that Claude’s wounds could reopen if agitated too much.

Claude winces every so often when his horse moves a little to suddenly for him to cope. Because of the severity of the wounds, traditional methods had to be used, which involved sewing them shut with a surgical needle and thread. He hasn’t seen the results, but he can imagine how bad it must look if it still feels painful to the touch.

“Pardon me, Duke Riegan, may I have a moment of your time?”

Gently pressing on his injuries one last time, Claude looks to his left to see that Lord Rodrigue has caught up to him. He still doesn’t know much about Duke Fraldarius, apart from the fact that he is Felix’s father and somewhat of a guardian to Dimitri.

“Please, just Claude is fine. How can I help you?” He asks, relaxing slightly into his saddle. Stranger he may be, but Rodrigue has proven himself to be trustworthy enough.

“Claude, I don’t know if anyone has properly thanked you for the work you have done towards helping His Highness overcome his demons. So allow me to offer you my sincerest gratitude. Without you, who knows what would have happened at Gronder Field.” Rodigue gives Claude a quick bow, his hand resting on his heart. “No one else has been able to get this close to His Highness. Even I have struggled, and I consider His Highness to be a son of mine. You have managed to make significant progress into helping him, and I will be forever grateful.”

Claude awkwardly laughs and rubs his neck, diverting his gaze away from Lord Rodrigue. He has never once stopped to think about what other people’s opinions of him would be. He stopped caring about what other people thought about him years ago, when he officially became the Sovereign Duke of the Alliance. To have someone as important as Lord Rodrigue thanking him...

“It’s nothing, really. He’s a close friend of mine and I care about him.” He tries to speak, but the words fall out of his mouth in a jumbled mess.

_Great._

_The leader of the Leicester Alliance is rendered speechless by one of the most important men in the Kingdom of Faerghus._

_What a sight to see_. 

“What is truly fascinating it that His Highness has been receptive of your efforts. He used to push everyone away, and refused to talk to anybody but his ghosts. But you, he listened to you. I know that after this war is over, you will be heading back to Derdriu to continue ruling over the Alliance. I only ask that you continue to offer His Highness your support. Allies are hard to come by, especially ones such as yourself." Rodrigue reaches out to rest a hand on Claude’s shoulder. "Please, will you continue to lend your aid?"

Claude moves his gaze from Rodrigue and over to Dimitri, who is riding a few feet in front of him. He is laughing away with one of the guards, possibly enjoying a funny story or a joke. His heart melts when Dimitri catches his gaze and gives him the softest, gentlest smile he’s ever seen. With the light breeze blowing through his hair, and his amour freshly repaired from Gronder, he looks like the quintessential Knight in Shining Armour that Claude used to read about when he was a child. There is no trace of the Boar Prince to be found.

“I made him a promise a long time ago. A promise that I would never abandon him in his time of need.” Claude pulls out the metal chain around his neck with the lion broach still miraculously attached to it. “We made the promise during the Ethereal Moon Ball back when we were students, and I intend to keep it.”

Lord Rodrigue says nothing, but gives Claude’s shoulder a firm squeeze before riding up the front of the convoy. Claude stays behind, his hand clenched over the broach.

_I meant what I said._

_I will never leave Dimitri behind_.

*

Garreg Mach comes into view as the afternoon draws into the evening. The sun is still high up in the sky, but the temperature is beginning to drop. As the convoy makes its way up the steep slope towards the monastery, Claude pulls Dimitri’s cape closer. He didn’t need the cape, but Dimitri had given it to him without hesitation when he made an offhanded comment about the weather getting colder. Rather than return it immediately, Claude huddled down into it and refused to give it back.

_It smells like him_.

Outside the monastery, the front gates are wide open as merchants prepare to pack up their supplies and head back to the town down below. They all stand to one side and bow as Lord Rodrigue rides into the marketplace, Dimitri and Claude following close behind. Claude tries to dismount his horse, but leaning forwards proves to be too much as a stabbing pain shoots through his body. His hisses of agony must have been audible, as Dimitri is soon at the side of his horse, looking up at him with a concerned expression.

“Not quite healed yet, it turns out.” Claude chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. Instead, all he succeeds in doing is making Dimitri even more worried. He vanishes for a few seconds before returning with a stepping stool. He places it next to Claude’s horse and climbs onto it. Now level with Claude, he holds out his arms.

“Here, lean against me.”

Curious as to what Dimitri is planning, Claude does as he is instructed. He doesn’t expect Dimitri to place his arms around his back and under his knees and lift him from the saddle as though he weighs nothing. And yet, he has total faith in Dimitri as he carefully climbs down the stool and places him down on the ground with the same care as a parent would for their child.

Not that it matters.

No sooner have his feet touched the ground and Dimitri has stepped away, Claude is overwhelmed by the Golden Deer classmates all hugging him tightly. It takes him every ounce of willpower not to scream out when someone presses up against his wounds. He returns the affection, hugging everyone back and reassuring them that he is alright, and that he is heading to Fhirdiad with them. By the time he manages to convince them all that he is okay, Dimitri has disappeared.

“Probably gone to take a bath or something. No offence, Claude, but you smell like a corpse.” Hilda punches Claude in the shoulder. “Didn’t you wash at all whilst you were at Myrddin?”

“I've spent four days unconscious and a further three stuck in bed. I’ve only just been allowed out this morning.” Claude runs a hand though his hair, frowning at the number of knots that have gathered over the past week. He so desperately needs a bath.

“Do not worry about us, Claude. We were just about to head to the evening war council meeting. Go take a bath, and catch up with us later.” Lorenz claps his hands and ushers the other Golden Deer members away like they are sheep. Before he leaves, he briefly nods at Claude. “It is good to see you again, Claude. We were all worried about you.”

“Thank you, Lorenz.” Claude nods back at his former classmate and leaves the marketplace, heading in the direction of the bathhouse. Along the way, he makes a quick stop in his bedroom to collect his towels and a spare set of clothing. Everything is as it was when he initially set out towards Gronder Field, and yet he feels different. Not just because of his new scars, but because of how the war is progressing. Before setting off, he was incredibly nervous. The battle could have resulted in his death, and it nearly did. But now, after the combined Kingdom and Alliance victory, the atmosphere feels lighter. The lingering fear of being killed is still present, but it is nowhere near as bad as it used to be.

_Almost like there is finally an end to this war_.

Gathering up his belongings, Claude leaves the dormitories and makes his way to the bathhouse. It’s only when he is climbing up the stairs that he realises that he is still wearing Dimitri’s cloak. He buries his face into the thick fur, smiling to himself. Now that the blood and filth has been washed off, it smells clean, fresh, brand new.

_It smells like Dimitri._

Inside the bathhouse, Claude places his towels and clothes onto a bench and reluctantly eases out of Dimitri’s cloak. With great difficulty, he manages to undress and drop his dirty clothing into a pile on the floor. It’s only then that he fully examines his abdomen, and the sight nearly makes him gag. The area where he has been stabbed isn't very wide, but is deep enough to pass through his entire torso. Ugly black stitches are holding both wounds shut, and whist they are healing, there are already signs of scarring.

_How I managed to survive this, I have no idea._

_I really thought I was going to die out on that field._

Carefully, Claude lowers himself into the communal bath and lets the warm water soothe his aching muscles. He sits there for a few minutes, letting the knots in his back untangle before attempting to wash himself. Filling up a jug of water, he pours it over his head and begins to rub in some hair lotion. As he is massaging his scalp, he hears footsteps behind him and the sound of someone kneeling down behind him. 

“Claude, your classmates said that you would be here. Please, let me help you. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Dimitri says as he works through the tangled mess that is Claude’s hair with surprising patience. Claude leans back against the wall of the bath, sighing in complete contentment. So often he is the one looking after Dimitri. It’s nice to be the one being looked after, for a change. 

They sit in a comfortable silence as Dimitri finishes off Claude’s hair and rinses out the soap with fresh water. It’s as he is scrubbing the dried blood from Claude’s back that Dimitri finally speaks up.

“I’ve been thinking. About us. About what lies ahead after the war. And I have come to realise something. I... I don’t want to go back to an empty palace, to rule over Faerghus alone. I need... I need someone with me.”

Claude can feel his heart breaking, but he tries hard not to let it show. Of course his relationship with Dimitri would have to come to an end. As lovely as it is being with him, they are two separate people in charge of two different countries. As soon as Dimitri is crowned King, Claude will have to go back to the Leicester Alliance to make preparations for his return to Almyra. He will still be an ally to Dimitri and come to his aid whenever needed, but he his ambitions lie beyond Fódlan. Dimitri will settle down with a Queen and produce an heir, thus ensuring that the Blaiddyd bloodline will continue.

This little relationship he has going on is nothing more than a fling in the long run.

“Well, I’m sure there’s a lovely Count’s daughter somewhere who will make an excellent Queen.”

“No, Claude. I don’t want a Queen.” Dimitri sweeps Claude’s hair to the side and places a kiss on the back of his neck. “I want you by my side. I want you to rule Faerghus with me. You’ve got experience in ruling, and I do not. I need you, Claude. I cannot do this without you.”

_Me?_

_Dimitri wants me?_

_There must be some mistake._

Claude slowly turns himself around so that he is facing Dimitri. He is greeted by the most forlorn look on Dimitri’s face. The amount of hurt that is on display is unbearable. Gone is the King asking his closest friend to stay. This is the look of someone who is scared that the person they love the most is going to leave them.

_No!_

_I will not leave him_.

Resting his hands on Dimitri’s cheeks, Claude brings him down to his level so that their foreheads are resting, using his thumbs to wipe away a stray tear that is beginning to fall. He is about to crush the one person he vowed to help, threatening to undo months of hard work.

He doesn’t want to be the person who causes Dimitri to snap back into his feral state.

_He can’t be that person who breaks the most important person in his life_.

_Almyra can wait_.

_He is needed elsewhere_.

“I’ll stay with you, Dimitri. After the war, I will stay with you in Fhirdiad. I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They soft
> 
> They warm
> 
> They full of love


	6. Step Six - Provide Unconditional Support

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Six - Provide your boy with the support he so desperately needs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back with more of the fluff! 
> 
> So much fluff!

Fhirdiad, the capital of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.

On a map, it looks positively tiny, a mere speck on some parchment, But, from hearing Dimitri’s tales about the place, Claude can picture its grandness. The towering Royal Palace at the far end of the city, the stone buildings with their snow-capped roofs, the market with the stalls that sells trinkets and odd and ends, the merchants running back and forth with supplies needed to survive a harsh winter... It sounds absolutely beautiful. 

“Our first stop will be to take back Arianrhod. It is still under Imperial rule, but if we can reclaim it, it will send a message to everyone that the Kingdom army has returned.” Dimitri leans over the table to move a piece from Garreg Mach to Arianrhod. “Then we will make our way north, slowly driving out the Imperial influence. We start with Gaspard, then move to Gideon, then Charon, Galatea, and finally Fhirdiad. If we send word up ahead of time, troops from both Fraldarius and Gautier can meet us at the city.”

Murmurs fill the room as members of the war council discuss Dimitri’s plan. Claude stares intently at the map, trying to figure out a way to streamline the process. As much as he agrees with Dimitri’s plan, he thinks it could be... Slimmed down a tad. The route Dimitri has proposed will cover all the Kingdom and help to cleanse the country of its Imperial rulers, but with so much marching, the Kingdom and Alliance armies will be exhausted by the time they reach Fhirdiad. And with such an important battle, everyone needs to be in their best state of mind. 

_Instead..._

Claude nudges Dimitri with his elbow, and points to the map.

“How many soldiers can Gaspard, Gideon, and Charon provide?” He asks. From what he can recall, Lord Lonato of House Gaspard was the minor Lord who was responsible for the failed uprising over five years ago. During the ensuing battle, most of his forces were wiped out. Trying to get soldiers from that territory will be difficult. He has also never heard of the Gideon territory, and the only member of Charon he knows of is Catherine, currently a member of the Knights of Seiros.

“I am not sure, but if we liberate those counties, it will boost morale of the country. And possibly our soldiers.” Dimitri drums his fingers on the table, examining the map. “Do you think we should go a different route?”

“Yes. With all due respect, Your Highness, I think we should head straight to Fhirdiad. I understand your desire to go through your country and personally free everyone, but if we take back Fhirdiad, it will naturally happen.” Claude moves the blue piece from Arianrhod and slides it up to Fhirdiad. “With any luck, just the news that the rightful King has returned will be enough to cause those under Imperial rule to rebel and unite under your cause. That’s just how I would do it, Your Princeliness, but you can do it your way.”

Dimitri shakes his head, his hair falling loose from its half ponytail. He tucks the strands behind his ears as he smiles down at Claude.

“No, you are right. We should take back Arianrhod and travel straight to Fhirdiad. The sight of the Kingdom banners might be enough to inspire hope. Very well, we shall leave tomorrow. Preparations have already been made, so there is very little else that needs doing. Listen up, everyone!” Dimitri raises his voice, and the council room falls silent. “Tomorrow morning, we ride out to Arianrhod. We reclaim the fort, and ride straight for Fhirdiad. We remove the false ruler, and take back what was lost to us five years ago. Spread the word to the troops, and get a good night’s rest. You are dismissed.”

As everyone filters out, whispering amongst themselves, Dimitri gently takes hold of Claude’s hand and takes him to one side. As soon as the room is empty, he carefully cups Claude’s face in his hands.

“Are you sure you are okay to travel? I know your injuries are not quite healed, so I don’t want to force you do something you are not ready for. I know I said that I wanted you there with me, but if you need to stay behind, that is also ac...”

Claude silences Dimitri with a deep kiss, running his hands through Dimitri's hair. When he pulls away, Dimitri's face is a delicate shade of pink. 

“I have already made my mind up, Dima. I’m going with you. I may not be able to fight by your side, but I want to be there. I’d hate to miss such a momentous occasion, one that is so important to you.” Claude stands on his tiptoes to give Dimitri another kiss. “Don’t try and talk me out of this. It’s not going to work in your favour, Your Princeliness.”

Dimitri laughs, a quiet laugh that only those in close proximity can hear. For Claude to be the only one around to hear it, he feels like the Goddess has blessed him. 

“As stubborn as always, I see.” Dimitri lightly squishes Claude’s cheeks. “I was never able to change your mind, even when we were students. So much has changed over the years, so it’s comforting to see that some things have stayed the same. Come on, we should prepare ourselves.” He drops his hands to wrap an arm around Claude’s shoulders, leading him into the corridor and down the stairs. Through the windows, the evening sun is casting an orange glow onto the walls. “As soon as we have the Kingdom, we will turn our sights onto the Empire. Onto... Onto Edelgard.”

“Shush, don’t think about her yet.” Claude leans in close to Dimitri, resting his head on his shoulder. “Focus on the Kingdom for now. Focus on reclaiming your home, seeing Fhirdiad again, all your people just waiting for you to return.”

“Yes, you are right. Recent reports state that she has retreated to Enbarr and is focusing on fortifying the city. She is probably expecting us to follow her and take advantage of her loss at Gronder Field. And, on any other day, she’d be right. I would have followed her from that field, and likely met my demise.” Dimitri pulls Claude in even closer. “You’ve helped me. You, and everyone else. You slowly helped me claw my way out of that dark frame of mind. Without you, I wouldn’t be here. Thank you.”

Claude may be used to the casual contact, but he is still not used to the sincerity in which Dimitri speaks. Every word that comes out of his mouth is said with the upmost honesty and seriousness, even if he doesn’t intend it to be.

_It’s all part of Dimitri’s charm._

Keeping quiet, Claude slides his arms around Dimitri’s waist and resumes walking, heading down the stairs to the ground floor of the monastery and out into the grounds. The sky is now a mesmerising array of blues, pinks, and oranges. The weather of Harpstring Moon is much more enjoyable, temperatures reaching the mid teens with a light breeze. It reminds Claude of Derdriu, when he would often walk along the docks with the grandfather and learn more about the culture of the place and where he comes from. He never knew his uncle, other than he looked like his mother and had the Riegan traits of brown hair and green eyes. He, too, had a Crest, and was in incredibly talented archer.

Claude would never wish death upon a person, not even his greatest foes, but a small part of him is thankful for Godfrey’s death. Without his untimely demise, Claude wouldn’t have been named heir, and he never would have met Dimitri.

_Small miracles of life._

*

After a final dinner in the dining room, Claude retreats to his bedroom with Dimitri. As everyone bunkers down for the night, the atmosphere is a mixed bag. Whilst it is definitely more positive than the last time they marched out, when they were heading towards Gronder Field, there is a still an aura of dread that no one is addressing. Taking Arianrhod is one thing, taking back the Capital is another. And should Dimitri fall, it would leave the Kingdom without its king and the only two players left in the war: one heavily injured Emperor who is incredibly paranoid, and one distraught Duke with injuries of his own. 

Claude finds himself unable to get to sleep. He knows that he need to get some proper rest, given that this is the last time he will be sleeping in a bed for a couple of months. From tomorrow until he returns back to the monastery, he will in a tent, on the ground, surrounded by thousands of soldiers. But sleep is evading him for two reasons. The first: the scale of the everything is beginning to sink in. He, a stranger to Fódlan, is about to help a man who he didn't know existed until about six years ago. Now the man is one of the most important people in his life.

The second reason: Dimitri is also unable to sleep. His eyes are closed, but he is muttering in his sleep and twitching about the place. Even Claude stroking his forehead and speaking soft words isn’t helping. He only stops twitching when Claude gently shakes him, ducking out the way avoid being hit by flailing limbs.

“Shush, Dima, it’s alright. You're having a nightmare. You’re safe. You’re with me, at Garreg Mach. They can’t hurt you.” Claude whispers, using a sleeve of his night-shirt to mop up the sweat clinging to Dimitri’s brow. “I won’t let them.”

Dimitri’s eye is glazed over, with no sign of consciousness behind it. Claude continues in his attempt to soothe him by lovingly stroking his hair and whistling the same song he has used before many times. Slowly, Dimitri’s breathing begin to ease and become less erratic, and his body stops shuddering. With his eye closed, he falls back into a slumber. Claude curls up him, resting their heads together. He knows that there is a chance that the bad dreams could come back to haunt Dimitri, and he wants to be there for him when they do.

He will be exhausted during the march tomorrow, and will likely fall asleep on his wyvern, but it will all be worth it to ensure that Dimitri has at least one restful night of sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, reaching the Battle of the Eagle and Lion during my Blue Lions playthrough: Claude, bby, I'm so sorry! 
> 
> Also, if you are looking for a good soundtrack to write to, highly recommend BOTW. Has bugger all to do with this game, but it's just nice background music. 
> 
> ~~Except for when the Guardian tune plays thanks to autoplay and your fight or flight instincts kick in~~


	7. Step Seven - Accept His Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Seven - *sobs uncontrollably*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO LIKES BITTERSWEET ANGST
> 
> 'COS I'VE GOT A BUCKETLOAD FOR YOU ALL
> 
> Still doing a ton of overtime, so I am taking advantage of any free time I have!

The march through the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus has been surprisingly easy.

A little _too_ easy.

Claude can’t help but feel that Cornelia, the self-proclaimed ruler of the country, has deliberately withdrawn all her troops in an attempt to defend the capital. After a weeks’ long march from Garreg Mach and through Imperial territory, the Kingdom Army arrived at Arianrhod to find it completely abandoned. The only evidence that there had been signs of life were the unmade beds and the half-eaten meals, still left from when everyone suddenly left the fort. During the march up north, there was little to no resistance from the Imperial loyalists that stayed behind. Additional forces from the now-liberated counties joined in the main army, but Claude is still worried about the upcoming battle.

The uncertainty of it all is killing him. 

The songs of the early birds filter through the command tent where Claude is uncomfortably hunched over the war table, which is empty save for a parchment of paper with a spider diagram of possible outcomes, all under the title of “RETAKE FHIRDIAD ASAP”. If he has to guess, there are four times as many soldiers in the joined Alliance and Kingdom Armies than those in Cornelia's forces, enough to take Fhirdiad on sheer strength alone. But for Cornelia to focus all her defences on one city... She is planning something, for sure.

And that terrifies him.

Even the best tactician in the world can only plan using the information they have, and Claude is stumbling around in the dark. He has no idea about the city’s layout, any secret paths that lead to places, what hidey-holes could be used as an ambush, whether the streets are large enough to support a whole army, nothing. Dimitri has tried his best to supply the info required, but it is still not enough.

_This is going to our trickiest battle yet._

_Large, open fields?_

_No problems._

_A city I have never visited that is likely heavily fortified?_

_Big problems._

A yawn escapes as Claude rubs his aching back. He doesn’t know how long he’s been studying in the tent, other than it was dark when he slipped out of his and Dimitri’s shared tent. Now the morning sun is high in the sky and people are starting to stir and prep themselves for the battle. Much like before Gronder Field, the atmosphere is one of nervous anticipation. Many people will die, that is a fact. Claude just hopes that he can keep that number as low as possible.

“Good morning, Duke Riegan. His Highness said I might find you here.” A steward bustles into the tent carrying a tray with a small breakfast and a glass of unidentified juice. “When you have finished here, His Highness would like to speak with you. He should be in the armoury getting himself ready for the fight ahead.” The steward places the tray on a small table, bows, and leaves the tent. Outside, the noise levels increase as the camp begins to fully awaken. His stomach crying out for food, Claude leaves the war table and tucks into his breakfast: strips of smoked bacon, dried out bread, figs, and some oats crushed and shaped into a bar. The juice turns out to be prune juice, using the prunes that were “borrowed” from the Arundel region just before the army entered Faerghus. He’s never liked prunes, but given the choice between drinking this and dying of thirst, he will take the prunes.

After finishing his “breakfast”, Claude ventures outside and heads back to his tent. He is still wearing his nightclothes from the night before, along with a pair of old boots on his feet and Dimitri’s cloak wrapped around his shoulders for warmth. Some knights stare at him at as he walks past, possibly wondering what the great ruler of the Leicester Alliance is doing walking around in just his pyjamas and the cloak belonging to the Crown Prince of Faerghus. Claude pays them no mind, as he has seen a fair few of them in varying state of undress during the rare occasion they camp near a lake and everyone can have a wash. Inside his tent, Claude dresses in his dirt-stained clothing, making sure to tuck some chainmail underneath his jacket for extra protection. Not that he’ll be at the front lines. If he’s lucky, he’ll be providing back-up.

More likely he’ll be left behind, waiting to receive the good news about the liberation of Fhirdiad.

_I promised to be by Dimitri’s side when he wins, and I intend to keep that promise no matter what._

As he’s struggling to replace his boots, a stabbing pain passes through his nerves from his abdomen, causing him to let out an involuntary yelp. He leans against a tent pole to recover as the tent flaps open to reveal a panicked Dimitri rushing towards him.

“Sorry, Dima. Forgot how much I still hurt.” Claude jokes, clutching at his side. Dimitri doesn't laugh as he places a hand over Claude's. 

“Are you sure you are fit to fight, Claude? I would hate to leave you behind, but if you are injured-“ Dimitri cups Claude’s face with his other hand. “I want you by my side, but I also want you to stay alive.”

Claude looks deep into Dimitri’s face, feeling guilty at the amount of pain in his eyes. His hair has been fully scraped back, save for a few loose strands that frame his face and hang around his neck. His pitch-black armour has been replaced with a brand new set, white with black accents and the Crest of Blaiddyd etched into the breastplate. The blue cloak, the one that Claude has borrowed a few times, has also been swapped out for a larger, more regal cape with more fur and extravagant detail.

_Here stands Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus._

“I’m okay, Dimitri, I promise. I just jostled my stitches a bit.” Claude jokes, even though he wants to cry out. Dimitri nods, but he appears to remain unconvinced.

“Claude, I want you with me, but I fear that this battle will be as bloody as Gronder Field. Cornelia will not bow out so easily, I’m afraid. She will fight to maintain her grip on Faerghus for as long as possible, up until she breathes her last.” Dimitri rubs a thumb over Claude’s cheek. “Given that we have met little resistance on our way here, she has something planned for us. Something that we must be prepared for.”

Claude quietly hums in thought, and links his and Dimitri's hands together. He is getting restless from sitting on the sidelines for so long. His wyvern has been taken out for long rides by Hilda, and Failnaught seems content being used for ornate decoration, but Claude _longs_ to be in battle. Every time he brushes his fingers over Failnaught, every time he tends to his wyvern, he curses the assassin that nearly ended his life and left him with a life-changing injury. True, it was him who jumped in front of Dimitri to save his life, but if that no good, _son-of-an-Almryan-wench hadn’t been there in the first place...!_

“You’re muttering under your breath again.” Dimitri laughs, pressing a kiss into Claude’s forehead. “I’ve seen how frustrated you’ve been over the past couple of weeks. Gods, I wish I could fight by your side again. How about this? Have a go at firing Failnaught, whilst everyone is still getting ready. If you can fire it without causing too much pain, maybe you can act as cover support?”

Cover support is next to useless, especially considering the high buildings and winding streets of the city, but Claude can see how much Dimitri is trying to include him without exposing him to too much danger.

_Better than nothing, I suppose._

“Alright, I’ll give it a try. See how well I’ve healed up.” Claude lets go of Dimitri and slowly walks over to the chest where Failnaught is resting. The bow, sensing his presence, glows brighter than its ever done. Armed with a few arrows, Claude leaves the tent with Dimitri, moving over to the archery range where a few people are out practicing their shots. They part like a wave when Claude approaches, eagerly awaiting to see Failnaught in action. Claude nocks an arrow, and takes a few deep breaths as he prepares to pull back the string.

_Just do it, Claude. How hard can it be?_

Claude lifts up Failnaught and pulls back the string ready to fire. He quickly fires off the arrow without properly aiming when excruciating agony fires throughout his body, resulting in him doubling over on the ground and clutching at his stomach.

Dimitri is by his side in an instant.

A sensation of healing magic begins to travel through his nerves, originating from Dimitri’s healing magic. Though Dimitri has never been one to learn white magic as a student, after Claude’s near-death experience, he demanded to learn at least the basics so he can provide first aid until the official healers can reach the casualty. Although all healing spells are fundamentally the same, every white magic caster has their own unique “fingerprint”. Mercedes, the healer of the old Blue Lions, has magic that feels cool and soothing to the touch, perfect for dealing with fevers. Linhardt, the exiled mage from the Black Eagles, has more lukewarm magic that befits his apathetic nature. Marianne, from the Golden Deer, leaves behind the feeling that one might get from seeing a loved one after a period of separation. Warm, but with a sense of bittersweetness.

Dimitri’s magic is the exact opposite.

It runs hot, like a sunburn after laying out in the sun for a few hours. It burns with the passion that comes from desiring revenge for so long, not stopping at anything until it has been achieved. Not many people have been healed by Dimitri, but all who have reported a feeling of rage, anger that someone close to the Prince has been hurt by his enemies and that is going to make them pay dearly for it.

Claude can feel his agony being replaced by a lingering warmth that reminds him of the desert in the middle of the Almyran summer.

“Guess I’m staying behind, huh?” Claude winces as the last of the pain leaves his body. He undoes his jacket and lifts up the chainmail to see, to his relief, that his stitches are still in place and there is no blood in sight.

“I’m sorry, Claude. I know how frustrated you feel. But it is for the best that you remain outside the city walls.” Dimitri ceases his magic and cradles Claude close to him. “When the battle is over, I will call for you. I want you with me when I address my people. I promise you that I’ll win this for the both of us.”

*

With the battle of Fhirdiad raging within the city walls, Claude has no choice but to anxiously pace back and forth outside as he waits for the news. He has a few guards to protect him in case someone takes the opportunity to try and abduct him, but that just makes him feel even more pathetic.

_The Sovereign Duke of the Leicester Alliance, bearer of the Crest of Riegan and the wielder of Failnaught, reduced to sitting around twiddling his thumbs whilst one of the most important battles in this war’s history takes place just a few feet away._

_I should be in those walls, supporting Dimitri as he fights to take back what is rightfully his and be at his side when the traitor Cornelia is defeated._

_Instead, I am stuck here._

_With personal guards!_

Wanting to take his mind off both the fact that he is crippled and the fear that is lingering at the back of his mind, Claude sits cross legged on the ground and starts to fiddle with Failnaught’s string. It hasn't been long since the last time the weapon was retuned, and it has only been used a couple of time since, but it is something to do to distract Claude. He undoes the rope and checks it for any loose threads that might prove to be a problem later if left unfixed. When he finds none, he replaces the string and gives it a couple of gentle tugs to ensure that it is firmly attached. He is about to ask one of his guards to test it, but stops when he realises that none of them possess his Crest, and he does not want to be responsible for a Demonic Beast appearing out of thin air.

After what feels like hours, the city gates swing open and a knight races towards them. Claude scrambles to his feet as they approach, their uniform caked in blood. They drop into a low bow as they breathlessly deliver their message.

“Cornelia has fallen, Your Grace. His Highness wishes for you to go to his side before he speaks to the civilians.” The knight stands up straight, lifting their visor so Claude can see their face. “It was a hard-fought battle, but we have emerged victorious. Faerghus is free once more.”

Claude’s heart feels like it is doing backflips as the message sinks in. Still holding onto Failnaught, he takes off running as fast as he can, holding onto his stomach to stop his injuries from hurting too much. The stench of blood hits him as soon as he reaches the gate, where bodies are starting to be dragged out and leave a blood trail behind them. Trying hard not to gag, Claude gingerly steps over the corpses and enters the city, stopping dead in his tracks when he fully processes the scene before him.

The Fhirdiad he imagined in his dreams is nothing like the city he sees before him. Piles of dead bodies, citizens and soldiers alike, are strewn throughout the streets. There is so much blood on them that he can’t tell who is friend and who is foe. The windows of the buildings are painted in a fine spray of red, along with the cobblestone pathways. Healers tend to those who have been hurt, whilst children cling to the bodies of their parents who were caught up in the crossfire. People mourn the loss of a close friend, a partner, a comrade, a relative, or someone who they’ve only known for a few days. Claude paces through the streets, offering a silent nod of condolence to anyone who glances his way. The guilt weighs heavy on his heart at the heavy losses the Kingdom has suffered.

_I should have been here_.

“Has anyone seen His Highness?” Claude askes a group of Alliance archers, all huddled together to reflect on what has occurred. They all silently point to the giant palace that looms in the distance. Thanking them, Claude navigates more roads littered with the dead, not looking down as he hears a crunch beneath his feet and steps into something soft and squishy.

_The smell of burnt flesh._

_So, people were burnt alive as well as stabbed._

At the Palace Square, Claude spots Dimitri standing over the corpse of a woman with pale pink hair that is stained red. A gaping wound in her torso is still oozing out blood, forming a pool beneath her. Areadbhar has blood dripping from its blade as the Crest Stone shines blindly bright. Dimitri’s shoulders are tense, too tense to be comfortable, and his breathing is erratic. Claude hurries to his side, whistling his song and reaching out to stroke Dimitri’s hair which has completely fallen from its ponytail. Up close, Dimitri is also caked in blood, some fresh and some dried.

“Claude... It’s over. Cornelia is dead, and Fhirdiad has been liberated. But...” Dimitri closes his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. “We have suffered heavy losses to both the army and the city. Innocent people were slaughtered as they tried to fight back against their captors. They were butchered in their hundreds, mercilessly cut down without a second thought. Monsters. I wish I could have cut them all down myself, as punishment for what they have done to my people.”

Failnaught clatters to the ground as Claude engulfs Dimitri in a tight embrace. Dimitri wastes no time in dropping Areadbhar and clinging back with equal force, fingers gripping onto the back of Claude’s jacket. They remain like this for a very long time, until Claude’s arms ache and he can feel grooves in his back from where Dimitri has dug into his skin.

“I... I wanted you with me so I could ask you something. It was going to be a momentous occasion with all of Fhirdiad watching, but I don’t think anyone is the mood for a celebration now.” Dimitri pulls back slightly so he can run a finger over Claude’s face, leaving a bloody streak. “Never mind, forget I said anything.”

“No... No, Dima, it’s okay. It’s just us. You can still ask the question in private, right?”

_Oh Gods, he’s going to ask me to stay behind with him in Fhirdiad. He’s going to want to me by his side and help his rule. I can’t. I have to get back to Almyra and take my position on the throne and fix the problems that plague my country._

“Alright, if you insist.” Dimitri reaches into a small bag that is secured around his waist, waits for a few seconds, and pulls out a box covered in blue velvet. Without getting down on one knee, he pops the lid open to reveal a gorgeous ring studded with diamonds and emeralds. Claude feels his breath being taken away as the ring is pressed into his hands.

“Claude... I was going to ask you in front of all of our friends, but I think it’s best if we wait until everyone has had a chance to mourn their dead. But... This all wouldn’t be possible were it not for you. If you hadn’t helped me, pulled me back from the brink, and shown me such kindness and patience... I would have died back at Gronder Field. I wouldn’t be standing here. Instead, I’d be buried in some mass grave somewhere, killed by my desire for revenge.” Dimitri sniffs, clearly trying to keep his emotions at bay. “I know people will want me to find a wife and produce heirs with the Crest of Blaiddyd, but I don’t want that. I want you, Claude. Will you... Can I marry you?”

_Marriage?! Oh no, oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no..._

_This is bad._

_Here is Dimitri, bearing all of his emotions and offering me his unconditional love. He is asking for my hand in marriage after I’ve saved his life. I want nothing more than to say yes, but I will have to leave him once this war is over and return to Almyra. This will kill him, shatter his heart into pieces. Better to break up with him now so that I can soften the blow when I leave Fódlan._

_Say no, Claude!_

_Say no say no say no say no say no say no say no say no say no say no_

_SAY NO!!!_

“Yes.”

Claude’s voice is so soft, so quiet, that even he isn’t sure that he spoke. But, judging by the expression of sheer joy on Dimitri’s face, he has responded.

“Oh, thank the Gods. I was so afraid you would say no.” Dimitri curls Claude’s fingers around the ring and kisses him on the forehead. Tears are streaming down his face. “You have no idea how happy you have made me. In hindsight, I much prefer this private engagement. We can always hold a public one at a later date.”

Claude is crying alongside Dimitri, for a mixture of different reasons. One: he is ecstatically happy. To be engaged to the Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, the man who has stolen his heart, is unbelievable. Were it not for Almyra, he would be freely celebrating his new engagement.

But that leads to the second reason.

Reason Two: Almyra. Try as he might, Claude cannot turn his back on the country where he grew up. The place still needs drastic reforms so that outsiders like him aren’t ostracised on a daily basis, and what better way to do that by ascending to the throne? His father is in his late fifties by now, still clearly able to rule, but sometimes new blood is needed to help turn things around when they stagnate. In order to do this, Claude needs to leave Fódlan behind for a while.

Leave Dimitri behind.

If Dimitri notices Claude crying, he doesn’t comment on it as he smothers him in kisses and laughs in a carefree manner. As he wraps his arms around Claude and lifts him up to spin him round, Claude catches sight of Cornelia’s body being dragged away from the Palace Square by some soldiers. With his feet back firmly on the ground and Dimitri’s arms wrapped around him, Claude vows to come clean when the time is right.

_But when is the right time?_

_How do I gently break off an engagement in a way that won’t kill Dimitri and make him revert back to his feral state?_

_Oh Goddess above, what the fuck do I do?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes, I love them smell of angst in the morning/afternoon/evening/night
> 
> _Love it_


	8. Step Eight - Relive His Past With Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Eight - When you get the chance to visit a painful moment from his past, do so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the inevitable has happened: the UK is in lockdown. Aside from work, I will not be leaving the four walls of my house. I also have a week off work, which means I now have A LOT of free time on my hands. 
> 
> Free time to do more writing about these boys. 
> 
> [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_VONMkKkdf4) is one of my favourite pieces of music ever. It's stuck with me from the moment I first heard it. And I hope you like it, too.

“Claude, will you come with me? I need to do something, but I can’t do it alone.”

Claude glances out at the city of Fhirdiad from the comfort of the balcony attached to Dimitri's bedroom. Night has fallen and the streets are still soaked in blood from where the dead were cut down just hours earlier. No one will be sleeping easily tonight. Especially Claude, who still feels incredibly guilty at missing out on the fighting. 

_I should have been at Dimitri's side, fighting along side him._

_That's what couples do, right?_

_Have each others backs in the heat of battle?_

“Of course, Dimitri. What do you need?” Claude takes one last look over the city and turns to face Dimitri. His armour has been replaced with a long sleeved, deep blue tunic and black pants. Completing the look are his regular cloak and a pair of black boots. His blonde hair has been freed from its ponytail and is now hanging in front of his face, covering the eye patch. If Claude had only just met him, he would say that Dimitri was merely a noble rather than the future King of Faerghus.

“I need to go down to the dungeons. I need some... Some closure. A reminder that the torment I went through five years ago is over. I don’t want to go alone.” Dimitri holds out a hand for Claude to take. “I _can’t_ go alone.”

Claude takes Dimitri’s hand, their fingers easily linking together. Neither of them are wearing their gloves and both of their fingers are covered in callouses from repeated use of their Relics. Dimitri’s hands have additional scars that have accumulated over the years, including two faint lines across his wrists. Claude doesn't know where they came from, though he has ideas that he would rather not think about. 

“I’ll go with you.”

Dimitri silently undoes his cloak and drapes it across Claude’s shoulders. He leads them out of their bedroom and through a labyrinth of corridors and stairs until they are on the ground floor. Everywhere they go, servants are removing the banners of the Empire and replacing them with those of the Kingdom. Red and gold turn into blue and silver, signalling the return of the true King. And yet, there is no celebration. There is no room for celebrating when so many people have died and a war is still taking place. This is but another victory in the grand scheme of things. The war will only end when the Empire, and its Emperor, falls.

Continuing on through some more corridors, Dimitri comes to a halt in front of a wooden door that is locked shut. He unlocks the padlock using the key hanging on the wall and slides the lock out. Easing it open with one hand, Dimitri snatches up a lit torch from its sconce. A set of stairs leads down into darkness, the bitter cold creeping up from below. Outside, the weather is mild with a light breeze, perfectly acceptable for an early summer’s night this far up north.

Down there, it feels like the winter has arrived early.

"I had very little time to react before I was thrown in here.” Dimitri's voice is even, but Claude is able to detect the sadness lurking beneath. The light of the torch is doing very little to light their surroundings as they reach the bottom of the stairs. “I was placed in the furthest possible cell away. Cornelia obviously didn’t care if I perished in here, seeing as she was planning on executing me anyway. The cold was like nothing I’d ever felt. Faerghus is a cold and ruthless place during the winter months, and the winter of five years ago was the coldest one yet. How I didn’t lose my fingers or toes due to hypothermia, I have no idea.”

Claude lets out a violent shiver. Wrapped under Dimitri’s cape, and with his warm nightclothes borrowed from Dimitri, he is still freezing. He can’t even begin to imagine what the place is like in the depths of winter.

“I was shackled to the wall. The chains were so tight that I lost feeling in my hands. That’s where the scars on my wrists come from.” Dimitri walks further down the corridor, his gaze firmly focused on what is ahead of him. “Dedue saved me on the day before my execution, but gave his own life as a result. Gods, they pounced on him as he shouted for me to run. They chased me as far as they could. And then, I was all alone.” He stops in front of a cell, the steel door still hanging from its hinges. “This is it.”

Letting go of Dimitri’s hand, Claude steps into the cell. In the light of Dimitri's torch, he can just about make out the size of the room: barely large enough for him to stretch his arms out both widthways and lengthways, a ceiling so low it grazes his head, the atmosphere so oppressive that he feels claustrophobic. And on the far wall are a pair of manacles hanging down, blood rusted on the metal.

He just about manages to stop himself from throwing up.

“It’s not changed since I escaped. I wouldn’t be surprised if Cornelia never used this cell again. She probably considered this to be my personal prison cell.” Dimitri stands next to Claude, bending down to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling. “When I was in here, all I could think about was you. How much I wanted to see you again... How much I missed you.” He slots the torch into a holder just outside the cell. “It was all I could think about.”

“Oh Gods, Dimitri. What did they do to you?” Claude mutters under his breath. The thought of eighteen year old Dimitri, scared out of his mind, trapped within these four walls and in pain...

It’s more than he can handle.

He latches onto Dimitri and holds him firmly. The fabric of Dimitri’s tunic is threatening to tear under his intense grip. Dimitri hugs him back, burying his head in the crook of Claude’s neck. Unlike the embrace they shared earlier in the afternoon over their new engagement, this one is full of longing and a desperate need to remind themselves that the other is alive and relatively unharmed.

_It’s strange._

_A few months ago I thought Dimitri was dead and that I would never see him again._

_Here I am now, engaged to him._

_Funny how things turn out sometimes._

“We should get back before we freeze to death. I’ve made my peace.” Dimitri pulls away just enough to kiss Claude. “I can’t see any sign of my broach here. Must have lost it when I was on the run... Sorry, Claude.”

“No, don’t be. I’ll get you a new one, I promise.” Claude gives Dimitri one final squeeze before reluctantly letting go. His fingers have gone numb due to the cold. He blows on them to warm them up as he leaves the cell with Dimitri. There are no other people in the cells, aside from some old skeletons of people who were left in here and forgotten about.

Claude has never been so happy to see the stairs leading out of the soul-crushing darkness. Dimitri bangs the dungeon door behind them, slamming the locks down and clicking the padlock in place. He hurls the key as far away from his as can manage. 

“When my grandfather was King, the dungeons were full to the brim with people who were thrown in for the slightest misdemeanours. My father only used them for people who committed the most serious of crimes. I intend to let them gather dust and cobwebs. If I could, I would demolish them for good.” Dimitri blows the torch out and storms back down the corridor leading to the main entranceway. “I will not use them at all during my reign. I will have a jail built above ground, and everyone accused of a crime will have a fair trial. No, not _everyone_. Cornelia’s death was too quick, too painless. She deserved to rot in the same hellhole where she left me to die!” He yells, the empty walls carrying his voice. Dropping his hands to his sides, he let out a shaky sigh. "Sorry, I... I shouldn't have lost my temper." 

“Dimitri, it’s alright to feel angry. I would if I was you. In fact, I find myself wishing I could have been there when Cornelia fell.” Claude lifts Dimitri's hair out of his face and kisses his forehead. “We’ve won. Faerghus is back under the rule of the rightful King. The Empire is growing weaker by the day. We will win this war. And I... I will be by your side when you are crowned King.”

_But for how long?_

“You’re right, Claude. I... I forgot myself. I apologise.” Dimitri rubs his thumb over Claude’s cheek. “Let’s go to bed. We’ve got an early start tomorrow. Fort Merceus awaits us.”

As they are retreating to their bedroom, Claude tries to work out the best way to come clean to Dimitri. After that outburst, the last thing he wants to do is aggravate Dimitri even further. The best thing he can do in introduce the concept of him leaving Fódlan slowly.

Starting with his real name.

Inside the royal en-suite, Claude brushes his teeth and rinses his mouth out with special liquid designed to freshen up breath. He can still taste the blood of the battle, as though he himself had fought. Battles, no matter how minor, always leave a bitter taste in his mouth. After washing his face with clean water and dragging a brush through his hair, Claude exits the en-suite bathroom to find Dimitri curled up in the four-poster bed. It looks too big for him, too empty for just the one person to sleep in.

_Obviously._

_It was designed for the monarch and their consort to share._

Claude slips underneath the luxuriously cosy covers and extinguishes the candle on his bedside table. When he is by himself, he leaves the candle lit so he can see if anyone is moving within the shadows. But with Dimitri at his side, in a heavily fortified castle, he feels safe.

He feels protected.

A soft snore to his side tells him that Dimitri has fallen into a deep asleep, likely because this is the first time in five years he’s slept in a bed that can fit his giant frame. Claude huddles up to him, stroking his hair and gently kissing the scar over his right eye. Just before he drifts off to sleep, he leans closer and whispers one word into Dimitri’s ear:

“Khalid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, admittedly, a bit of a filler chapter. 
> 
> Sorry!


	9. Step Nine - Tell Him (Nearly) Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Nine - Begin the baby steps into revealing your heritage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I'm back :D
> 
> I managed to get the will to continue writing, and I am pleased with how it has turned out. Given that I was so close to just deleting everything on my account, that is definitely an improvement.
> 
> As always, have some [musics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vnO4rSFl1eI)

Claude cannot sleep.

Even though he has been given a massive bed to sleep in, which he honestly was not expecting, his mind is too full of thoughts for him to get any comfortable sleep. In his war tent, he forces himself to sleep as he needs to be refreshed for the day ahead. But now, safely inside the Fhirdiad Royal Palace with his boyfriend, no, _fiancé_ , he is unable to sleep,

The bedroom is silent, save for Dimitri’s load snoring. Claude has always known that Dimitri snores in his sleep, having shared a bed with him many times before. But his snoring now is loud enough to wake up the dead. He is sprawled on his back, with one arm out for Claude to curl into if he wishes. Nothing, not even his nightmares, can wake him up.

Claude slips a foot out from under the covers to test the internal temperature. Harpstring Moon is when the spring season turns into summer, bringing about a promise of warm weather and bountiful crops. A slight chill hangs in the air that comes from being so far north. In the Alliance, as well as Almyra, Claude only sleeps with a thin duvet. Here, in Faerghus, the beds all have fur-lined blankets to keep the cold out.

Taking care to be as quiet as he can, Claude slips out of bed. Dimitri may be dead to the world, but there are still others in the castle who are trying to sleep. The full moon shines in through the balcony doors as Claude makes his way to the fireplace and kneels down in front of it. He selects some logs from the basket and arranges them on top of old papers. Finding the box of matches resting on the fireplace, he strikes one and holds it to the papers until they are lit. He gently blows on the flame, the sparks catching onto the logs. The fire now blazing, Claude collapses down on the sofa in front of the fireplace and watches the flames dance. He tugs at the blanket resting on the back of sofa, covering himself up as he settles down for another sleepless night.

He knows he needs to come clean to Dimitri about his past. About Almyra and the royal blood that flows through his veins. Dimitri has come on leaps and bounds since Gronder, and he’s almost at the point where he can be described as “normal”. But there is also the risk that something like this, revealed at such a key point in the war, can change everything for the worst. Claude wants to leave Fódlan as soon as it is safe, as soon as the Empire has fallen along with its Emperor. To leave the news until then would be the worst possible outcome. Dimitri will be fully expecting to rule over the new land with Claude at his side, and for Claude to suddenly announce that he is leaving...

That would break Dimitri worse than anything Cornelia did to him.

A barely audible rustle over by the balcony doors breaks Claude out of his thoughts. He jolts up to look over the sofa into the corner of the room, his eyes squinting to adjust to the darkness. His eyes not leaving that corner, he slides off the sofa and backs away towards the bed. Underneath his pillow is the dagger that he always has on him for cases like this.

“Show yourself!” Claude shouts at the unknown intruder. He doesn’t know if it’s just his eyes and ears playing tricks on him, but he is certain that someone is inside the bedroom. The doors leading to the balcony are slightly ajar, and the curtains are moving despite the lack of wind from outside.

Claude doesn’t have to wait long for the assassin to show themselves.

From out of the shadows, the hooded figure lurches forwards with their sword raised up high. Claude leaps to the side just in time for the sword to embed itself on the pillar of the four-poster bed.

“You heard me enter? This is obviously not your first assassination attempt. Don’t worry, it will be your last!” The person doesn’t bother to tug their sword out from the bed frame as they pull out a sharp looking blade from their belt. Without waiting for them to attack, Claude grabs the nearest solid object he can find and dual wields it with his dagger. In the light of the fire, he can see that he is holding a candelabra. He steps to the side once again, using the candelabra to intercept the blade. Not one to give his attacker a chance to recover, he drives his dagger into their neck.

The result is instantaneous.

Letting out a gargled cry of pain, the assassin drops their weapon and clutches onto their neck. Blood easily flows from their mouth and between their fingers as they stagger around trying to find something to stop the bleeding. They don’t get very far before their head is suddenly yanked around, a sickening crunch indicating that their neck is broken.

“Claude?! Oh, thank the Goddess.” Dimitri steps over the still-bleeding corpse and cups Claude’s face in his hands. “Did they hurt you? You’re not hurt, are you? Please say that isn’t your blood!”

Claude is vaguely aware of the still-warm blood that now coats his nightclothes and skin. He figures that he must have hit either the carotid artery or the jugular vein, from what he learnt about the human body a while ago. Cut either of those blood vessels and the person will die within minutes without medical attention. 

“It’s not mine, Dima. They didn’t even get to lay a finger on me.” Claude rests his hands on top of Dimitri’s, linking their fingers together. “I heard them enter through the balcony doors. They didn’t make an audible sound, but I still could sense their presence. Call it a sixth sense that has originated from surviving many attempts on my life. How... How did you hear us? I thought you were fast asleep."

"I have spent five years alone in the wilderness. As soon as I sense danger, I wake up. Heh, I guess we share the same sixth sense." Dimitri leans down to give Claude a soft kiss. Gently stroking Claude's hair, he holds him close as he reaches over for some rope hanging next to the fireplace. He gives it three firm tugs, the sounds of a bell ringing somewhere nearby.

_An emergency bell._

The bedroom door swings open a few seconds after the third chime has finished. Royal guards flood into the bedroom, each one armed with a sword and a burning torch. Dimitri points to the dead body on the floor as he cradles Claude close. Claude isn’t injured, or even phased by this attempted assassination, but he doesn’t resist as Dimitri runs a hand up and down his back, whispering words of comfort into his ear.

“Dastards didn't even wait a full day before sending an assassin. Cowards!” One of the guards kicks the body as it hoisted up and carried away. They turn to face Dimitri and Claude. “Don’t worry, Your Majesty. We will track down who this deviant belongs to, and make sure they are thoroughly punished.”

“Thank you. Claude and I will go wash up and we will move into the secret bedroom. Please make the necessary preparations.” Dimitri addresses the guard before looking down at Claude. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The remaining guards enter the bathroom, giving it a complete check to ensure that no other intruders have managed to sneak in during the commotion. Claude waits off to the side, holding onto Dimitri’s hand. The blood is beginning to dry, the stench of rust hitting his nostrils. It reminds him of when he first reunited with Dimitri, his blood drenched cloak being the first thing he could smell.

_We’ve come such a long way in a short space of time_.

“Bathroom is clear, Your Majesty. We shall remain until you have finished, and then escort you to the secure location.” The head guard bows and steps to one side to allow the two of them to enter the bathroom. Once inside, Dimitri leaves the door slightly open so a quick getaway can be made if needed. He sets about filling the tub up with water as Claude shrugs out of his bloody clothing. Only now does he appreciate, for lack of a better term, how much blood his assailant has lost. The entire front of his nightshirt is crimson, and patches of his trousers are stained with blood. The blood has leaked through the clothing and onto his skin, coating him in a fine layer of red.

_No wonder Dimitri thought I’d been injured_.

“Claude?” Dimitri pats Claude on the shoulder. “Your bath is ready. I can leave if you wish?”

Claude shakes his head. The last thing he wants is for Dimitri to be worrying about him. At least with him here, his mind can be at ease.

“No, Dima, please stay with me.” Claude lowers himself into the tub, the water at just the right temperature. He inhales the sweet aroma of roses as he scrubs the blood from his arms, turning the bathwater red. Dimitri drags up a stool behind the bath and dips a washcloth into the water. He rubs it over Claude’s back, even though Claude is certain that no blood reached that far.

_It’s more likely that Dima is doing this to distract himself._

“Dimitri, I... I have something to tell you.” Claude stares down at the water swirling around him. The rosy coloured hue is beautiful, once he ignores the fact that he is bathing in the blood of his would-be killer. He scoops up some of the water in his hands, letting it slip between the cracks in his fingers. “It’s about time I told you the truth. The truth about who I am.”

“The truth?” Dimitri stops washing Claude’s back. There’s a soft splash as the wash cloth is dropped into the bathtub, followed by the scraping of wood on stone as he drags the stool so he is face-to-face with Claude. “What do you mean, ‘the truth’? I thought I knew everything there is to know about you.”

Claude laces his fingers through Dimitri’s hair, pulling him down so their foreheads are touching. Dimitri’s hands grip onto Claude’s shoulders.

_Moment of truth._

“You know that I’m from Almyra, don’t you? It’s pretty obvious at this point.” Claude runs his hand through Dimitri’s hair, squeezing his eyes shut so he can’t see Dimitri’s expression. “I... I’m more than just a noble from the Leicester Alliance. I’m royalty from Almyra. Blood from the Almyran royal family is in my veins.”

Claude pauses, not daring to open his eyes. His fingers are still locked in Dimitri’s hair, tightly woven round the blonde locks. Dimitri’s arms leave Claude’s shoulders, sending a wave of dread flowing through his nerves. 

_Oh no, I’ve really done it now._

_He's going to send me away from the Palace for lying to him all this time._

“Claude?”

Feeling his head being lifted up by a hand underneath his chin, Claude keeps his eyes closed. Dimitri’s voice is barely louder than a whisper, so detecting what mood he is in is almost impossible.

“Claude, look at me. Please.”

Daring to open his eyes, Claude braces himself for an enraged Dimitri who is angry at being left in the dark for so long. To his surprise, and immense relief, Dimitri is smiling at him. It is a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, showing how happy he is.

“Thank you for telling me. I had a feeling that there was more to you. To hear it from you has made me feel... Feel like I am important enough to know something incredibly private.” Dimitri presses a kiss onto Claude’s forehead. “This makes our marriage even more special. Not just in bringing the Kingdom and the Alliance together, but also Fódlan and Almyra.”

Claude wants to tell Dimitri that there is more to the story, that he will be leaving Fódlan as soon as Edelgard’s head has fallen, but he cannot bring himself to ruin Dimitri’s blissful mood. Instead, he holds Dimitri close and rocks back and forth, humming a little tune.

_That’s the first step out of the way._

_Now to pluck up the courage to tell Dimitri the rest._

*

The following day is gloomy and overcast, perfect for the mass funeral that takes place in the morning. Because the war is still going on, and the remnants of the Kingdom and Allinace armies have to march down south before noon, several funeral pyres are built to allow for mass cremations to take place. One pyre is for those of the Leicester Alliance, one is for the civilians of Fhirdiad, one is for the Kingdom army, and the final one is for those of the Empire. Despite protests, Dimitri insisted that they be given the same funeral so their bodies cannot be dug up and carried around as martyrs. A priest leads the sermon, singing praises to Sothis and all her glory. 

Unsurprisingly, given the attempt on Claude’s life the previous night, the funeral sight is heavily fortified with Holy Knights ready to strike at any given moment.

Claude barely pays attention to what the priest is droning on about. All he can focus on is the massive funeral pyre in front of him that is holding the bodies of the two hundred and fifty-one people from the Alliance army. Two hundred and fifty-one people who laid down their lives to free a country they don’t even belong to, all whilst their leader does nothing.

He may not have personally killed them, but their blood is on his hands.

A few feet away, standing in front of the pyre constructed for the civilian casualties from Fhirdiad, is Dimitri. His hair has been fully tied back, save for a few loose strands that hang down his neck. The armour he usually wears has been replaced with more regal looking attire befitting a funeral. According to Lord Rodrigue, they are the same clothes Dimitri’s father used to wear when he was King.

“And as we commit their bodies to the flames, let us all say a prayer together.”

The priest begins to recite his prayer as Claude steps forwards to dip his torch into the cauldron of fire. A special type of fire is being used, as it has been specially designed for fast and efficient cremation of multiple bodies. The last time it was used was during the plague that swept through Faerghus over twenty years ago. The deep blue flames leap from Claude’s torch and onto the pyre, igniting the wood and sending pale blue smoke up into the air. He dunks his torch into the bucket of water next to the flaming cauldron and stands back as the flames lick at the corpses. Within a minute, the entire pyre is ablaze.

With all four piles of wood and corpses now burning fiercely, the crackle of fire and the weeping of the survivors drown out the priest’s prayer. Claude watches the flames dancing in the sky. If he was the religious sort, he would say that the souls of the dead are leaving their bodies and going into the afterlife.

However, he isn't religious, and he knows that the flames are just, well... Flames. They don’t discriminate over who or what they burn. Empire, Kingdom, Alliance... They don’t care who’s bodies they are burning. In the end, everything it touches will be turned to ash.

“I should have been there. I should have fought in that battle.” He says to the flames. He isn’t certain that anyone heard him until he feels a strong pair of arms hug him from behind.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Claude.” Dimitri rests his head on top of Claude’s. He increases his grip around Claude’s waist, pulling him in closer and kissing his hair. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Don’t forget that. I love you, Claude.”

Staring straight into the flames, Claude takes a deep breath to steady himself. He’s already come clean about his true heritage. Now he just needs to take the next steps into revealing everything.

“Khalid. My name is Khalid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude with survivor's guilt? 
> 
> Yes please!
> 
> (Me, who has a degree in forensic science and spent a whole year on blood pattern analysis: has to Google what happens if an artery is cut.)


	10. Step Ten - Come Up With A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude comes up with a plan to take Fort Merceus, which Dimitri has problems with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Sorry this chapter is so short! Work has been an absolute madhouse. To be honest, I'm amazed I've found the time to sit down and write. 
> 
> I should have some free time soon enough :D
> 
> I've also been feeling nostalgic for music that I loved when I was younger, so have a [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dGR65RWwzg8) that I listened to religiously when I was eight years old. It's also fitting with the entire theme of this fic :D

The graveyard of the Fhirdiad Royal Palace is oddly comforting.

Claude paces through the site as the midday sun shines down from the sky, bringing about a warmth rarely felt this far north. In just a few minutes, he and the rest of the Alliance/Kingdom armies will be heading back down towards the Kingdom/Empire border, and then back to Garreg Mach to begin the preparations for Fort Merceus. 

Taking advantage of the last-minute preparations, Claude walks along the stony path, taking in all the graves of the previous Kings and Queens of Faerghus. At the front of the cemetery is the grave of Loog, the first King of Faerghus. And, at the end...

“King Lambert, Dimitri’s father.” Claude says as kneels in front of the grave. He notices that fresh petunias have recently been planted. “Your Majesty, I’ve come to ask permission to marry Dimitri. I know we are already engaged, and will be wed after the war, but it feels wrong to not at least ask for permission first. Seeing as he is your son, and all...” 

Silence.

The only thing Claude can hear is the distant ringing of church bells as to signal the beginning of three days of mourning. That, and the sound of footsteps approaching him. 

“There’s nothing beneath the soil. His body was never recovered from Duscur. The gravestone is just for show.” 

Dimitri crouches beside Claude, holding a bouquet of white lilies. He lays them over the petunias, pressing a kiss onto his hand and transferring it onto the tombstone.

“Everything happened so quickly that there wasn’t time to recover the dead. The nobility within Kingdom focused purely on keeping me, their sole heir, alive. By the time the dust settled, the bodies were gone. Whether they were buried in a mass grave or cremated on a funeral pyre, no one knows.” Dimitri traces his finger over his father’s name. “There have been multiple attempts at retrieving the dead, but none have been successful. By now, all we’ll be looking for are nondescript bones.” 

“I’m sorry, Dimitri. It must be horrible not knowing where he’s been buried.” Claude leans against Dimitri’s shoulder. “Are the preparations complete?” 

“It’s alright, Khalid. It’s been nearly ten years since the Tragedy occurred, and more importantly, I know that it was my stepmother who was responsible. To think that she was that desperate to see her daughter again that she would kill her false family.” Dimitri shakes his head and pushes himself onto his feet, holding a hand out for Claude to take. “Come on, we’re just about ready to leave. I wanted to visit father before we leave. I see you have the same idea.” 

“I did. I wanted to ask him for his permission for us to marry. It seems silly and old fashioned, now that I think about it...” Claude takes Dimitri’s hand and pulls himself up. He feels giddy that Dimitri is using his real name, and how easily it flows off his tongue. Of course, in public, Dimitri will be using his fake name to avoid his real name from reaching the wrong ears. Should an Imperial spy learn of his true name, and do the research into his heritage, it could spell disaster. Propaganda will be used against him to rally the Empire forces, meaning that it will take even longer for Enbarr to fall. 

So, for the safety of everyone involved, Dimitri uses “Claude” in public.

But in private...

"No, don't worry about it, Khalid. I know my father would have been happy to meet you. He would have approved of our marriage." Dimitri raises Claude's hand up and softly kisses it. "As would my birth mother, if she was still alive." 

Claude smiles in a lovestruck way as he glances behind him to take one last look at the graveyard. Back inside the palace, the servants bow to him and Dimitri as they reach the hallway. Dimitri stops briefly to leave instructions to the Head of the Household, and leaves through the grand entrance. Outside, there is still a sense of loss within the streets of Fhirdiad. The smoke from the funeral pyres can still be seen outside the city walls. Claude doesn't have the time to watch the flames burning out. He, along with the Alliance and Kingdom armies, have to head back to Garreg Mach as soon as possible to avoid the Emperor strengthening her forces. 

_If we are to stand a chance against Adrestia, we need to take Merceus._

_Now that the Faerghus once again belongs to the Kingdom, Edelgard will want to reinforce both Merceus and Enbarr._

_Gods, I hope my plan works._

*

“So, Claude, has your brilliant mind conjured up an idea on how to take Merceus? They don’t call it ‘The Impregnable Fortress’ and ‘The Stubborn Old General’ for nothing.” 

Claude winces slightly as he stumbles on a pothole. Rubbing his stomach, he nods at Dimitri, trying not to let his eyes water due to the pain. Even now, with Gronder being a distant memory, his injury is still causing him grief. Progress from Fhirdiad to Garreg Mach is going well, all things considered. So far, Claude has been able to walk without having to rely on the cart carrying everyone’s equipment. 

“That I do, Your Kingliness. You see, there is no way we can lead a frontal assault. You need three times the amount of soldiers just to make a dent in the enemy’s defences. So, I have come up with an idea. An incredibly risky idea. One,” Claude holds up his thumb. “We secure some Imperial uniform. Given that we will be making our way through the Empire, that shouldn’t be too hard. Two,” he holds up his index finger, “We disguise some of our people as Imperial soldiers and act like we’ve come back from a scouting mission. We can act as though the blood is those of the Kingdom or Alliance. And Three,” he holds up his middle finger, “Once inside, we open the main gate and allow the army to swarm into the fort. Bam! We got ourselves entry into the most secure location in Fódlan.” 

Dimitri stops to think through the plan, his facial expressions changing from confused to impressed over a few minutes. He lets out a small laugh. 

“I see you’ve thought about this quite a bit. I’m so grateful that I have you by my side, Claude. Gods only knows what would happen if I was left to take the fort myself. No doubt I would have had to break the gate down with my bare hands.” 

This time, it’s Claude turn to laugh. 

“Gods, I would love to see that. With that Crest of yours, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re able to rip the gate clean off its hinges. It’s a dangerous plan, and I will be putting people’s lives at risk... Which is why I need to be there with them. I need to infiltrate Fort Merceus.” 

Time seems to slow down as Dimitri’s smile fades and he latches onto Claude’s arms, 

“No! You mustn’t. I understand that it is dangerous and you feel duty-bound to protect your soldiers, but no. What if it goes wrong, and you are discovered before you can open the main gates? What if... What if you are not able to fend them off due to your wound? What if they find out who you are? And they torture you... Whilst I am powerless to do anything..." A stray tear forms in Dimitri's eye. "Please, Claude... I beg you to reconsider. Let me lead the infiltration.”

“I can’t, Dimitri. You’re the most recognisable person in all of Fódlan, alongside Edelgard. Even if you are disguised, those stationed at the fort will be told to keep an eye out for you. For me, I’ve been out of this war for so long that I may as well not exist. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for me to blend in. Plus, we are more likely to find a uniform my size.” Claude rests his hands over Dimitri’s. “I cannot sit on the sidelines for the rest of this war. I hate feeling completely useless whilst you go out and fight these battles. Let me do something to help you win this war. To help _us_ win this war. I have to lead the infiltration on Merceus.”

Dimitri opens his mouth to speak, but Claude silences him with a kiss. 

“How about this? As soon as our armies have stormed the fort, I will retreat. I’ll move to somewhere safe and stay there until the fighting has ceased. That way, I won’t be caught up in the crossfire. Sound good?” 

Dimitri hesitates for a few seconds, then nods his head and pulls Claude in for another kiss. They pull apart when they are rudely interrupted by Hilda clearing her throat in an obnoxiously loud way. 

“Very well. I... I agree with your plan." Dimitri tucks a strand of Claude's hair behind his ears. "I just hope it works out the way you intend it to.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love how in Verdant Wind, Claude and Hilda come up with an ingenious plan to take Merceus. Claude even manages to get the Almyran army involved!
> 
> And then it gets to Azure Moon where it's like "Eh, break down the doors, it'll be fine." 
> 
> One schemey boi and one strong boi.


	11. Step Eleven - Allow Him To Comfort You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. 
> 
> I have some important updates at the end of the chapter.
> 
> [have some music.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyjgw3gczgM)

_Gronder Field is a bloodbath._

_Claude observes the scene from his wyvern as he soars over the battleground. So far, it is impossible to tell who is going to win. Initially, the combined Alliance and Kingdom forces took some damage when the Imperial army launched a surprise Meteor attack. But with the mages taken care of and the central hill now ablaze, the armies are more or less balanced. The only way to turn the tides is to demoralise the opposition._

_The plan that Claude made earlier in the month, as well as the work that went into “taming” Dimitri, had gone out the window as soon as the prince had laid eyes on Edelgard. Instead of the subdued young man who is trying to move on from his past, he is now the bloodthirsty monster he feared he’d become. Claude hovers above him, ready to intervene if needed. Firing off a couple of arrows at some cavalry units, he glances around the field to scope out the area. What he sees next fills him with dread._

_Dimitri is cutting down a mage who is desperately trying to fire off a Nosferatu spell, his back turned to an Imperial assassin rapidly approaching him. Claude fires off an arrow to try and stop them, but they merely jump to the side to avoid being hit. Panicking, Claude acts on instinct and urges his wyvern on, aiming straight for the space between Dimitri and his would-be killer. As soon as the wyvern is low enough to the ground, Claude pulls back the string of Failnaught and launches another arrow. He lets out a string of expletives as he watches the enemy dodge out the way a second time. Leaping from the saddle, he lands on the ground just in time to watch the assassin slice through a weak point in Dimitri’s armour._

_Time slows to a crawl as Dimitri’s royal blue cape turns dark red, a roar of pain cutting through the chaos of the battle. The blade is mercilessly ripped out, pieces of Dimitri’s armour falling to the ground. Claude doesn’t hesitate to nock another arrow and fire it straight into the assassin. His form is incredibly sloppy, and he knows it. All he cares is getting rid of the bastard here and now. With that third arrow, the assailant drops to the floor, blood pooling from their head and onto the muddy field beneath them._

_“Dimitri!” Claude cries out as he races up to Dimitri. He rips his golden cape off from his pauldron and presses it against the wound, the fabric immediately soaking up the blood. Tucking Failnaught under one arm, Claude tries to support Dimitri and carry him to the sidelines where the healers are tending to the wounded. With Dimitri being five inches taller than him, he doesn’t get very far before Dimitri slides off and lands in a crumpled heap. Claude scoops him up in his arms, panic fully kicking in. His clothes are now fully stained with Dimitri’s blood as he tries desperately to conjure up a healing spell. Faith magic has always been his weakness, and now he is kicking himself for not trying harder in the Academy. Even the weakest of healing spell can make the difference between life and death._

_Even more worrying is how shallow Dimitri’s breathing is, and how his face is now deathly pale._

_“_ _Dima?!” Claude frantically pushes his fingers against Dimitri’s neck, trying to find a pulse. When he doesn’t find one, he drops his head onto Dimitri’s chest to see if he can hear a heartbeat. To his dismay, Dimitri’s heart is still and silent._

_“No... No..!” Claude scans the battlefield, desperately looking for Marianne. Or Lysithea, as she has been learning white magic to act as a backup healer in rough times. Or even Mercedes!_

_There’s no one around him but the dead._

_Claude is so preoccupied with cradling Dimitri’s body that he doesn’t resist when he hears someone approaching him from behind. He lifts his head up and closes his eyes, allowing the sharp blade of an axe to dig into his neck, killing him instantly._

* 

Tears are streaming down Claude’s face as he shoots up in bed, clinging onto his pillow. He wipes them away with the sleeves of his nightshirt as he eases himself out of bed, sweating dripping down from his forehead. It’s just a stupid nightmare, one that is obviously not true. The sleeping form of Dimitri sprawled on his back, snoring away in Claude’s too small bed is evidence enough. Judging by the moonlight shining outside and the dimly lit candle on Claude’s desk, it is still in the middle of the night. Claude feels around on the floor for his waterskin, stubbing his toes on his pauldron. He is too late to stop the expletive that slips from his mouth as Dimitri stirs from the bed. 

“Khalid? Are you alright?” The mattress creaks as Dimitri sits up in bed. Claude hops over to his chair, clutching at his toes. He nods, angrily wiping at the tears forming again in his eyes. 

“It’s nothing, Dima. Go back to sleep.” Claude says, his voice breaking. Dimitri is out of bed in an instant, kneeling down in front of him and resting his hands over his arms. 

“There is obviously something wrong, Khalid. Please, tell me what it is. Are you injured?” Dimitri moves his hands to Claude’s face, using his thumbs to dry the tears now freely falling. 

_Damnit_. 

“I... I had a nightmare about Gronder. I wasn’t able to save you in time. You were cut down right in front of me... And then I died not long afterward.” Claude leans into Dimitri’s touch, his hands so soft despite the number of scars that litter his skin. He is powerless to do anything as he is scooped up into Dimitri’s arms and carried back onto the bed. Dimitri leaves him for a few seconds as he rummages around on the floor for the waterskin, and then he lays back down on the mattress and pulls Claude in close. 

“Gronder Field was a nightmare. It was one of the lowest points of my life.” Dimitri presses the waterskin into Claude’s hands. “I have nightmares about it nearly every night. The way you were unconscious for four days, with no signs of if you would pull through... It was awful.” He kisses Claude’s forehead and rubs his hands up and down his back. “Know that I am here and that nothing can hurt you now. We will win this war together.” 

Claude nods weakly, slurping down the water from the waterskin. He buries his head into Dimitri’s shoulder as Dimitri tightens his embrace. 

_I’m safe with Dimitri._

_He won’t let anything happen to me._

_It was just a nightmare._

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, Khalid.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [update one](https://grumpycupcake94.tumblr.com/post/617003285409333248/update-02052020)
> 
> [update two](https://grumpycupcake94.tumblr.com/post/617109724010364928/update-03052020)


	12. Step Twelve - Show Him Your Love and Appreciation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Twelve: Show your boy how much you love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> A bit of a filler chapter, I'm afraid. I'm trying to update as many fics as I can because I'm going to be working flat out next week due to overtime. So, yay. 
> 
> [Musics time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pFkGvVFdx-o)
> 
> Enjoy!

Claude is awake before anyone in the monastery. Not that he has had much sleep after his nightmare. He ended up falling asleep a little after three, and then was awake at five. Leaving Dimitri snoring away in their shared bed, Claude slips into his clothes and heads out to the training yard. Whilst Failnaught requires vast amounts of strength to wield, a regular one bow should be alright to handle. It’s a theory he wants to try out before heading out to Merceus, just to confirm that he has a way to defend himself should the need arise. 

When he gets to the training grounds, he picks out a basic iron bow, the sort he used when he first joined the Academy. It feels fragile and lightweight in comparison to Failnaught, which he has been using for the past five years. He pulls the string back without an arrow, pleased that there is no pain erupting from his abdomen. Nocking an arrow, he takes aim at one the targets and lets go of the string. To his lack of surprise, the arrow goes way off track and ends up striking the white of the target. He tries again with another arrow, this time landing between the white and black rings. His aim may be way off, on account of him having not practiced his archery since the Battle of Gronder nearly two months ago, but he isn’t feeling any noticeable pain. It’ll take at least a week to march to Fort Merceus, which is plenty of time for him to get practice in. 

_I still miss Failnaught. However, there is nothing that I can do until I build my strength back up._

Another arrow goes sailing through the air and hits the inner blue ring of the target as Claude’s confidence grows. He swaps his iron bow for a weightier steel bow and continues to fire off arrow after arrow. After ten or so arrows, he is nearing the bullseye. His adrenaline rush at being able to do the thing he loves is so intense that he fails to realise the searing pain in his stomach until he tries to pull an arrow out and doubles over in pain. 

“Got too cocky.” He mutters to himself as he clutches his side and wiggles the arrows free. He places them and the bow back into their respective storage, and leaves the training ground. The sun is now beginning its ascent into the sky, the birds singing their morning chorus. He wordlessly makes his way to the dormitories, trying not to show off how much pain he is in, and makes it back just in time for Dimitri to stir from his slumber. The half-asleep smile he gives Claude is enough for any pain Claude is feeling to disappear. He perches on the side of the bed and leans down greet Dimitri in a kiss. 

“Hmm, you’re up early. I thought you’d be sleeping in.” Dimitri sits up in bed and gives his limbs a stretch. “Especially as we’ll be camping for the next few months.” 

“I went for a walk around the Monastery. It’s not like we’ll be coming back here anytime soon. As soon as we take Merceus, we’ll be heading towards Enbarr and the Emperor.” Claude says, not wanting to tell Dimitri about what he’d been doing at the training ground. “Felt like I needed the time to say goodbye on my own.”

“I never thought about that.” Dimitri runs his fingers through Claude’s hair. “As soon as the Empire has fallen, we will be returning to Fhirdiad and preparing for my coronation. And our wedding.” 

“Ah yes, our wedding. About that. I’ve got an idea.” Claude flops down on the bed, kicking his legs back and forwards. “You see, my parents would quite like to see me get married, as was the plan before I became heir to the Alliance. They told me, before I left, that if I fell in love with someone and planned to marry, that they would like me to return to be wed in Almyra. I think we should have two weddings: one in Fódlan and one in Almyra. The one here can be the stuffy and luxurious affair that everyone expects from the King and his new Consort. We will be wearing the finest silver and navy silks, have the whole of Fódlan in attendance, have a seven-course feast, and dance until the early hours to boring music. But, the one back home.” He turns to smile at Dimitri. “Will be an intimate affair. Just us, my family, and maybe some guests from Alliance such as Hilda and Lorenz. We’ll be wearing lightweight and brightly coloured fabrics, enjoy a buffet in the palace gardens as the sun sets, and retire early.” 

“Two weddings...” Dimitri frowns, deep in thought. “Which one will be our real one?” 

“Whichever one you want. Which one do you want to think back on when you recall our wedding?” Claude taps Dimitri on the leg. “I know which one I would want.” 

“Yes, the one at Almyra. That sounds... That sounds perfect. We will end this war, sort my coronation out, and then travel to Almyra for our wedding.” Dimitri yawns as he strokes Claude's hair. 

_Hopefully, this way I’ll be able to get things sorted out without having to leave Dimitri._

_I can only hope._

_And a small wedding is just what we need before our busy life in Faerghus begins._

*

“Claude, a moment please?” 

Claude finishes fastening the saddle onto his wyvern as Seteth approaches him, holding a weapon of sorts. He places the weapon into Claude’s hands and folds his arms, trying hard not to look like a disappointed father. 

“I heard you injured yourself this morning, when you were trying to use a bow and arrow.” 

Panic quickly setting in, Claude glances around the site of the old chapel, now turned into a makeshift barracks for the army to prepare for their biggest challenge yet. Much to his relief, Dimitri is far away, giving instructions to some of the Kingdom army. Claude turns back to Seteth with a guilty look on his face. 

“Please, don’t tell Dimitri. He’ll get himself worked up, which we don’t need right about now. What’s this?” He examines the weapon that Seteth handed to him. It looks like a silver bow, but not like any bow he’s seen. For starters, it has a _lever_. What sort of bow has a lever? Despite his initial confusion, he can’t help but admire the craftsmanship that went into constructing the weapon. The curved section is carved with intricate swirls, as well as engravings of his Crest. The string is composed of one of the strongest substances in Fódlan, the silk of the Adrestian Eagle Spider that commonly resides in the forests of the Empire. The other little touches to the bow makes it feel like this weapon is _his_. Like it is meant to be his. He looks to Seteth for an explanation. 

“I understand that you want to lead the infiltration of Fort Merceus. Even if you were not in your current state, going in with Failnaught would be unwise. Therefore, this crossbow was commissioned for you. It is, admittedly, nothing like Failnaught or any of the Relics, nor does it allow the fast reload of a regular bow. However, it means that you will be able to provide long-range attacks and not worry about injuring yourself. This lever,” Seteth points it out, giving it a few clicks to show how it works, “does all the work for you. All you need to worry about is pulling the string back, loading in an arrow, and aiming. Would you like a demonstration? I am admittedly no archer, so I will do my best.” 

Seteth takes the weapon from Claude and leads him over to the archery range, where a few soldiers from the Alliance are getting in last-minute practice. He talks Claude through all the steps on loading and firing, ending in him firing the bolt which lands near the black circle on the target. 

Then, he hands it back to Claude. 

Going through the motions, Claude pulls the string back and locks it into place. Slotting a bolt into the tiller, he lifts up the crossbow to aim at the target. Now that he doesn’t need to worry about aiming and launching at the same time, he takes the time to calm his nerves. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before squeezing the trigger, listening to the bolt go flying from the weapon. He opens his eyes again to see that he has hit a bullseye. 

“Nicely done, Claude. I would try and get in some practice on the way to Merceus, just to ensure you have full confidence before we launch our attack. Also, I would hide it away when you enter the fort. Such a weapon is not known to Fódlan, and especially not the Empire. The mere sight of it would give you away.” 

“Where did you get this from, Seteth?” Claude traces a finger over the string. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.” 

“It is... Something that my brother used to use when he was still around.” Seteth awkwardly clears his throat. “Now, I must be off to ready the Knights of Seiros. You should probably do the same for your troops. We’ll be departing soon, no doubt.” 

Claude watches as Seteth leaves, his instincts telling him that Seteth is not telling him the whole truth. He doesn’t have time to pry and he turns to face the archers all excitedly gathering around him to check out his crossbow. 

“Is that Adrestian Eagle Spider silk? How fitting for our crusade against the Empire!” 

“What are you going to call it, Your Grace?” 

“Your weapon needs a name!” 

“Yeah, give it a name, Your Grace!” 

_A name?_

Claude looks down at the weapon in his hands, trying to come up with a name. When he first arrived in Fódlan, his grandfather had shown his Failnaught and told him the legend behind its naming. He desperately tries to think of another weapon from the same legend that he can use to name this one. 

_Damnit, why didn’t I pay attention?!_

“What have you got there, Claude?”

The crossbow is taken from Claude’s hands as Dimitri thoroughly looks it over, carefully examining every detail. He chuckles to himself as he passes it back to Claude. 

“I see Seteth has done an excellent job with it. I asked him to build a weapon for you to safely use, and I see he has delivered. Do not worry about giving it a fancy name. Sylvain’s Relic is called The Lance of Ruin, which is an admittedly fitting name.” 

Claude isn’t listening to Dimitri list off all the names of the Relics that originated from the Kingdom. All he can think of how Dimitri specifically asked for the weapon to be made for him. He may not have come up with the crossbow, but it was him who gave the idea to Seteth. 

Reaching up to grab Dimitri by his cloak, he pulls him down to kiss him, overcome with love for this brilliant man. The soldiers around them shuffle away to give them some space. 

“A weapon like this isn’t built overnight, which means you’ve had this in mind for some time. You’re always looking out for me, aren’t you?” Claude pulls away just enough to rest his empty hand on the back on Dimitri's neck. 

“Of course I am, Claude. I will always look out for you." 

"And I will for you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent nearly an hour looking up the names of mythological weapons before deciding "screw it" and not bothering. 
> 
> All the names I came up with have already been used D: 
> 
> Next chapter will be Fort Merceus!
> 
> No update because it'll just be me screaming into the void :|


	13. Step Thirteen - Save His Life (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assault on Fort Merceus does not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! 
> 
> It's the dreaded Fort Merceus chapter that changes depending on what route you are taking. 
> 
> Except it's incredibly short because I suck at describing stuff :<
> 
> Sorry if I miss any glaring mistakes. It's 11:30pm and I am about to pass out :<
> 
> [have musics](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zLv9J1u5dRM)

Fort Merceus beckons Claude forward, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t terrified of what was about to happen. 

Riding on an Imperial horse in front of a small squad, all decked out in blood-stained Imperial clothing that has been recently looted from some fresh corpses, he holds his back straight and his head up high as he approaches the main gate. The commander’s cape, deep crimson with a golden trim, does an excellent job of hiding both the crossbow and his face. He has recently dubbed it Fallen Star, named after the signature move of Failnaught. 

_Let’s see if it can save me now._

“Hold! Who goes there?”

Claude slows his horse down to a stop, holding his hand out for the others to follow suit. Amongst them are Hilda, who insisted on coming with him; Felix, who begrudgingly agreed to keep an eye on Claude; and Lysithea, who’s magic is being used as a signal for the main attack to begin. The others are all made up of soldiers from the Alliance and Kingdom army. 

“We return from scouting the area!” Claude calls up, hoping the guards are stupid enough to not notice a sudden voice change coming from this commander who they probably know by name. “We ran into some Alliance troops outside of Myrddin. We think they were planning on marching to Enbarr.” 

“The Alliance?”

“I thought they were disbanded after their leader died at Gronder Field. Must be some remnants of the army.”

“Who knows?”

“Should we let Hub-, I mean, Marquis Vestra know?” 

“I guess so?”

“Wouldn’t hurt to keep the Emperor updated on the Alliance’s doings. She’s been so preoccupied with the Kingdom that she’s completely forgotten about the Alliance.”

Amazed that his lie worked, Claude watches as the portcullis is lifted up to allow him to enter. Still internally fearful for what is about to happen, he rides into the fort, shocked by the sheer size and scale of the place. Arianrhod, meant to protect the whole of Faerghus, is positively tiny compared to Merceus. Just from what he can see, there is a mass of buildings along a winding path, which presumably lead to the central section of the fort. The mountains surrounding the fort do an excellent job of giving the place a claustrophobic feel. 

“You encountered Alliance forces? How? All traces of the Alliance Army should have been removed the instant Claude von Riegan fell. Reports say that he died at the Battle of Gronder.” A man, a high-ranking official based on the number of medals on his uniform, approaches Claude. “Unless you are lying? Did you really come across the Alliance, or perhaps the Kingdom disguised as the Alliance? Well, explain yourself!” 

“It’s quite simple, really. You see,” Claude pulls down the hood, revealing his face. He hears gasps all around him as he pulls out Fallen Star, preloaded with a bolt. “I am Claude von Riegan. I didn’t die at the Gronder, but you are going to die here.” He doesn’t hesitate to fire a bolt into the man’s skull, killing him instantly. 

As the soldiers disguised as Imperial troops charge to take out the people around them, Lysithea launches a miasma spell into the air, angling it slightly so that it lands further into the fort to ensure it doesn’t come straight back down. Claude slides off his horse and tries to ready another arrow, but is interrupted by a fortress knight about to spear through him. He barely dodges out the way in time and acts out pure instinct as he sticks his leg out to trip them up. They fall to the floor, their lance clattering to their side. Claude scoops it up, pointing at them as they spin round, hands by their head. 

“Mercy!” The knight cries out as they remove their helmet, revealing a terrified young woman with tears in her eyes. “Please, let me go. I just want to see my family again! Long live the King!” 

Claude holds the lance above her face, his hand shaking. There is always the risk that she will prove to be his undoing, that she could turn around when he least expects it and assassinate him, but at this point... It’s worth the risk. Plus, the way she holds her hands by her face and pleads for her life reminds him of what he would do in her situation. If Derdriu was being attacked and his life was about to end, he would also plead for his life to be spared so he could run and live another day. 

“Go.” He throws the lance to the ground. Dimitri and the rest of the army come storming into the fort just as she manages to get to her feet and run as fast as her armour allows her to. The infiltrators stand to one side to avoid being caught up in the stampede, some of them silencing the siren that is now blaring through the air. His mission complete, Claude slips out behind the chaos and runs back to the safe spot outside, where a few clerics wait for the casualties. He settles down on a soft spot of dirt and watches the fort. Somewhere amidst all the confusion is Dimitri, cutting down anyone in his path with a single swipe of his lance. Everything has gone according to plan. 

Except, ten minutes later, something goes wrong. 

From the clear, pristine blue sky, strange purple rings aim towards the fort. Frowning, Claude scrambles to his feet and takes a few steps forwards to get a closer look. The clerics around him all point to the sky and talk amongst themselves as to what in the name of Sothis this strange phenomena is. 

Then part of the fort explodes is a ball of flames, debris and bodies flying into the air. 

As the clerics scream in horror, Claude immediately sprints towards where the spare wyverns are kept. He leaps onto one of them, slices through the rope attaching them to a tree with his dagger, and takes to the sky. Clinging onto the reins for dear life, he soars above the now burning fort as another section explodes. One of the towers falls in on itself as Claude frantically searches the area for his allies, hoping to find one person in particular. To his immense relief, the pegasus knights and wyvern riders are helping people evacuate by air. Imperial, Kingdom, or Alliance soldiers, it didn’t matter. Anyone who could be saved was going to be. 

But Claude still could not see Dimitri anywhere in the flames. 

Feeling desperate, he urges his wyvern on and heads deeper into the fort to one of the few sections that hasn’t been destroyed. There, he finds Dimitri, kneeling on the floor with his head bent, Areadbhar acting as a post for him to lean on. Claude swoops down, his wyvern landing on the ground with a heavy thud. Falling off the saddle, he bites back the pain now throbbing in his leg and hobbles over to Dimitri, firmly shaking his shoulders. 

“Claude... You’re here...” Dimitri lifts his head, his face covered in blood and soot. A tear falls from his good eye. “I was... No, this is not the time. We should leave before we both die.” He heaves himself to his feet and grabs Claude by the hand. They both rush over to the wyvern, Claude in front and Dimitri holding to him with an arm around his waist. No sooner have they taken off, the area where Dimitri was is consumed by an earth-shattering explosion that nearly rocks Claude from his saddle. It’s only thanks to Dimitri’s firm grip that he manages to stay on. Glancing around, Claude can see that the entire fort is now ablaze. Anyone who has not been rescued is doomed. 

He hopes the knight who wanted to go home escaped with her life. 

They land softly on the ground where the injured and wounded are being treated, with everyone who managed to flee watching with morbid curiosity as the once Impregnable Fortress is reduced to rubble by intense flames, the likes of which Claude has never seen. He slithers from the saddle and crumples to the ground, his knees weak. Dimitri slumps at his side, wrapping his arms around him and holding his close. They are soon joined by Hilda and Lysithea, along with Ingrid, Felix, and Sylvain. More people join in, forming a large group hug on the ground. Claude leans against Dimitri and closes his eyes, praying that the unknown woman made it out alive. 

"You saved my life." Dimitri presses a kiss onto Claude's forehead. "Thank you." 

"I said I'd always look out for you." Claude feels the familiar warmth of Marianne's healing magic as she fixes his broken leg. "I intend to keep that promise." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *screams into the void* 
> 
> Overtime may be killing me, but at least I have a healthy bank balance. 
> 
> Yay???


	14. Step Fourteen - Stop The Boar Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step Fourteen - Catch up to the boy before it's too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK!
> 
> I'M SORRY IT HAS BEEN A WHILE! 
> 
> WORK HAS BEEN NIGHTMARE! 
> 
> I've done four evening shifts in a row, one finishing at eleven and the other three finishing at ten. I didn't have any time to write D: It has also been a trying few days, which can I sum up with one emotion: (╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
> [Have some musics.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSuMgId9204)

The aftermath of the destruction of Fort Merceus resembles a war zone. 

From the fort walls at Myrddin, Claude can see the burning wreckage in the distance. He wonders if Emperor Edelgard has received word about its destruction, and what her next moves are. The destruction is a blow to not only the Empire, as the capital city has now lost its main defence, but also the Kingdom and Alliance. Their plans to take over the fort have now disappeared, forcing them back to Myrddin to recoup and rethink their strategy. After hours of intense debate over whether the army should turn around and go back to Garreg Mach to boost morale, or push on to Enbarr to avoid having the Emperor reinforce the city walls, no one can agree on a single course of action. Dimitri and Lord Rodrigue are holding their own private talk, whilst Claude waits outside on the bridge walls to get some fresh air and let his mind work in peace. 

“Your Grace, forgive the intrusion.” An Alliance scout, their yellow and grey uniform coated in smoke and soot, bows before Claude. “A young woman wished to see you. She says she has travelled from a small village neat Merceus, and has brought additional troops.” 

“A young woman, you say? Hmm, could it be...? Very well, I shall go speak to her. Thank you for letting me know.” Claude adjusts Dimitri’s cloak around him. Garland Moon is a couple of days away, yet Claude still finds himself reaching for Dimitri’s cloak during the evenings. Not for the warmth, just for the comfort. The first few droplets of rain begin to fall from the dark clouds overhead as Claude walks down to the main area of the fort, which is completely deserted save for the few soldiers permanently stationed there. Out of fear that Myrddin is next to be attacked, the camp has been set up outside of fort so that no emergency mass evacuation needs to be made. Count Gloucester, in an unlikely display of selflessness, has provided medicine and food for the troops to try and boost their morale in the final push to end the war. 

Claude is sure he only did it because Lorenz forced him to do it. 

At the entrance to the fort, a group of fifty or so men and women clutching simple weapons huddle behind a young woman with dirty blonde hair tied back in a plait that reaches her waist. Her robes are dark green, with patches sawn over where the material has torn. Claude immediately recognises her as the knight who begged for her life back at Merceus. What shocks him is just how _small_ she is. Her muscles look barely big enough to swing around the staff she’s carrying, let alone run around in full armour. To her body, she holds a tattered old leather book that has pages haphazardly stuck inside. 

_To find her here, of all places._

The girl’s brown eyes widen with shock when she spots Claude approaching her. Her gaze darts from Claude to the royal blue cloak draped around him, which bears the emblem of the Kingdom. She immediately drops to her knees, hissing for the others to do the same. 

“Your Majesty! I had no idea that it was you saved my life. No matter how many times I say thank you, it will not be enough! I want to pledge my alliance, and my life, to you and the Kingdom. I know I am but a simple commoner, from a village that isn’t even on the map, but I want to do what I can. I-” 

“It’s alright, you may rise.” Claude approaches her and holds a hand out. “I’m not the King. But I am Claude von Riegan, leader of the Leicester Alliance. You’ll want to speak with my fia-, the actual King of Fearghus, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd. He’s in a war council meeting right now. And you are?” 

“Oh! My name is Rose Ellice, Your Grace.” Rose takes Claude’s hand and rises to her feet. “And these people are from my village. We have been badly affected by the war, as our normal trade route has been taken over by Imperial supply wagons, which take priority over our survival. I only took a job as a fortress knight at Merceus so that I could provide money for the village. Now that the fort is gone, we have nothing. Please, please let us join your side. The Emperor has turned her back on us and left us to fend for ourselves. We-” 

“Normally I’d say yes and let you in straight away. However...” Claude rubs the back of his neck. “I may be the leader of the Alliance, but again, the man you need to speak to is the King.” 

Rose’s eyes grow wide in shock as she glances over Claude’s shoulder at something. She and the villagers all immediately drop back to their knees, their heads nearly touching the floor. Claude is confused until he feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around his shoulders. 

“My love, the meeting is over. Sadly, neither of us can make up our minds about what to do, and... Oh? Who are these people, Claude?” 

Claude quickly brings Dimitri up to speed, about how he let Rose go during the initial invasion, and her request to join their armies. Dimitri listens intently, his eye moving back and forth between Claude and the people still kneeling on the floor. He lets go of Claude and crouches down in front of Rose, gently placing a hand under her chin to lift her head up. 

“You are Rose, correct? Well, we are always in need of new troops. Are you absolutely sure you want to join our side? If we lose, you will be branded a traitor of the Empire and executed. Is this what you want?” 

Rose nods her head, her braid falling over her left shoulder and trailing on the stone path leading up to the bridge. Her fringe falls loose from her cap, covering half of her face. 

“I am sure, Your Majesty.” 

“If you are need in of a way to the Imperial Palace, Your Majesty, I may have an idea. It’s not a particularly nice one, but I know that there is a way into the dungeons through the sewers.” A man pokes his head up, his dishevelled black hair sticking up at every conceivable angle. “At least, that’s what the rumours are. They say that it is used as an escape route for the Emperor should the need arise. Maybe you can use it to make your way in?” 

“A secret passage, you say?” Claude can’t help but get excited at the prospect of sneaking around the Palace and taking out the Empire from within. Whilst everyone’s attention will be on defending Enbarr, no one will be expecting an assault from within.

_Dimitri won’t like it, but it’s not like we have a choice._

*

“I know what you’re thinking, Claude. You want to sneak around the dungeons and gain access to the throne room that way.” Dimitri paces around the tent as the rain pours down. Small trickles of water leak through the material and soak into the ground below. “Heh, I know that no matter what I say, you’ll do it anyway. Just, please be careful. I’d hate for you to be caught.” 

“I know, Dima. It’s a risky plan, even riskier than Merceus. And it could easily go wrong.” Claude shrugs out of his chainmail and drops it inside an open chest. “But with Merceus gone, the Emperor is going to be doing everything she can to make sure we don’t enter Enbarr. This may be the only way we can get to her. Of course, that’s assuming the path to the throne room from the dungeons is straightforward. It’s more than likely a maze of corridors meant to confuse anyone trying to escape.” 

“Yes, that is likely the case. Then, it is settled. We are heading back to Garreg Mach to make our final preparations. I think we could all do with some proper sleep and a bath.” Dimitri climbs into the bed and pats the space next to him. “Come on, you’ll tire yourself out thinking too hard. We can inform everyone of our plans tomorrow.” 

Claude pulls on his nightclothes and settles down next to Dimitri. Overhead, a boom of thunder can be heard. Claude tries to tune out the thunder as he buries his head into Dimitri’s chest, focusing on the work that needs to be done, such as finding out whether the man was telling the truth and that there is a secret tunnel within the sewers that leads to the dungeons. Then, he could possibly replace the guards with his own men disguised as Imperial soldiers. A lot to do in a small space of time, which is why...

“Maybe I should stay here at Myrddin.” He says as he struggles to stay awake. He wants to go over all the little details, but he’s so warm and it’s so comforting being in Dimitri’s arms that surely he can take a little nap before getting to work. 

*

“Ah, he is beginning to wake up. Summon the Emperor! She’ll want to see him.” 

Confusion begins to settle in as Claude slowly returns to consciousness. He is laying down on something, but there is something missing. There’s no warmth radiating from Dimitri, not are there are arms holding him close. Instead, there’s something cold and metal wrapped around his neck. And when he tries to move his hands...

_Fuck_. 

Claude has been in enough situations like this to know that someone, during the middle of the night, has whisked him away. Judging by someone saying that they need to summon the Emperor, he has an idea as to where he is. Using his shoulders, he manages to heave himself into an upright position and open his eyes. He’s in a dark cell, the only light source originating from the torches the two Imperial guards in front of him are holding. Despite his predicament, he isn’t in any pain. Even the rope around his wrists is made of a soft material. 

_Perfect for a political prisoner, I suppose._

Out of the darkness, a figure clad in red approaches Claude. Her white hair is hanging loose around her shoulders, and the shadows under her eyes are extenuated by the darkness. She pulls her blanket around her frail body and kneels down to face Claude. 

“We meet again, Claude. I’m sorry it could not be in better circumstances. However, it had to be done. This war... It has to end sooner rather than later. The people cannot continue to suffer whilst the Empire waits for the Kingdom to make its next move. This was the best course of action. With you in here, Dimitri will march the Kingdom Army towards Enbarr, where he will fall at Fort Merceus.” Edelgard hobbles back to her feet, one of the guards reaching out to help her when she stumbles. She nods her thanks, hair framing her gaunt face. Coughing into the blanket, she looks sadly at Claude. “I don’t have much time, Claude. I want... No, I need to win this war before it is too late. I need to see Fódlan free from the tyranny of the Church. I wouldn’t normally stoop so low as to have Hubert abduct you in your sleep, but it needed to be done. I am so sorry, Claude. When the war is over, you will be free to leave and live your life as you wish.” 

Claude glares at Edelgard, staring directly into her eyes. 

“Did you stop to think that I wish to spend the rest of my life with Dimitri? My fiancé?” He spits, lunging forwards towards Edelgard. The chain around his neck is the only thing holding him back. “Huh?! Did you stop to think I want to be there, on the battlefield, supporting the man I’m due to marry?! That I am the only thing that is stopping him from spiralling out of control?! What you have done is not just brought the Kingdom at your doorstep, but also unleashed the beast within Dimitri that I have spent the past few months trying tame!” 

One of the guards pulls Edelgard back, shielding her with their body. 

“Your Majesty, do not listen to him! Fort Merceus stands between us and them. We can stop them there, and-” 

“Fort Merceus has been destroyed! I saw it with my own eyes! Javelins of light falling from the sky, reducing the fort into a pile of rubble! Did you not see the smoke in the sky?! I saw it all the way from Myrddin! There is nothing stopping the Kingdom and Alliance armies from marching straight into Enbarr, especially when you were so heavily reliant on Fort Merceus for protection that the city walls are incredibly thin! And you’ve unleased the wild beast by taking me hostage.” Claude bursts out of laughing, his insane cackling echoing around the cell walls. “You’ve just signed your own death certificate!” He laughs as Edelgard flees the cell with the other two guards, leaving Claude alone in the cell. His hysterical laughter is quickly replaced by loud sobs as he thinks about Dimitri waking up to find him missing. The panic that follows as he frantically tries to find him in the camp. The horror when he realises what has happened. The work that Claude has done vanishing in an instant as he reverts back into the Boar Prince, hellbent on removing Edelgard’s head from her shoulders. 

In the darkness of the cell, he can imagine how Dimitri must have felt all those years ago, back in the dungeons at Fhirdiad. Fortunately, the temperature in this cell is a lot warmer due to Enbarr having a hotter climate. Unfortunately, the heat and claustrophobic atmosphere is causing Claude to see things. He almost swears he can see a shadowy figure reaching behind him to cut the rope away from his wrists, and then unlock the chain around his neck. 

“It seems the Emperor has followed our orders. In doing so, she has caused her own downfall. You must escape to relay the information to the King.” The unknow figure lights up a torch, casting a blue glow that reminds Claude of Lysithea’s magic. “Go out of this cell, then turn left and the number of cells you pass. On the sixth one, stop, and knock five times, then three, then six. When prompted, respond with ‘Aether’. You will then find yourself in a position where you can slip out of the dungeons and make your escape. Do not worry about the guards. They are all occupied with trying to fortify the city. There should be a horse waiting for you to carry you back to His Majesty.” 

“I... Who are you? Why are you helping me?” Claude reaches out to try and touch the figure, his fingers only meeting empty air. 

“Someone who wants to see the Empire destroyed. Fort Merceus was our work. That is all you need to know. Now go. You need to get back to the King before he reaches Enbarr. Do not try to enter the city through the gates. Head to the gate you escaped from, and sneak back into the cell I mentioned. Someone will be on hand to escort you to the throne room for the final showdown. Heh, to think that everything has gone according to plan.” The figure’s demonic laughter sends a shiver down Claude’s spine as it disappears. Feeling like he can’t trust the person, but sensing that he has no choice but to follow their orders, Claude pushes himself to his feet and picks up the blue torch. His cell door has been unlocked, allowing him to creep out and check for any guards. True to the stranger’s voice, there is no one around in the dank corridors. Counting in his head, Claude turns left and heads down for the sixth door. He does the series of knocks, and waits. He prays to the Goddess that he isn’t being set up and that someone is waiting to kill him. 

His worry is momentarily lifted when a voice from the side of the door asks: “What is the colour of chaos?” 

“Aether.”

The door swings open and Claude is yanked in, the door banging shut behind him. In the dim light of the torch, Claude tries to keep his nerves in control. Panicking will only lead him to make a wrong move. He thoroughly inspects the room, searching every nook and cranny for something out of the ordinary. All he can find is a lone manacle hanging from the far wall. Not seeing any other way out, he gives the chain a tug, almost yelping in surprise when a section of the wall falls away to reveal a tunnel illuminated by blue flames. Claude takes a deep breath and steels himself to enter the passage. No sooner has he entered, the wall behind him snaps back into place. With nowhere else to go, Claude ventures deeper into the tunnel, focusing on where his feet are and nothing else. In all the chaos, he failed to notice that he is still in his nightclothes and his feet are bare. 

The stones beneath his feet feel comforting. 

The smell, however, leaves something to be desired. 

Using his spare hand to block out the stench, Claude pushes on, wondering when the tunnel will come to an end. He almost cries in relief when the blue flames are replaced by natural light shining from the top of some stairs. He races to the stop and barges through the metal door, breathing in the fresh air. Falling to his knees, Claude takes in his newfound freedom by feeling the grass beneath his feet and hand. The afternoon sun is blinding after being underground for an unknown amount of time, yet Claude tilts his head back to bask in the warmth. 

He’s free. 

Right next to the gate where he emerged from is a horse, tawny brown with a leather saddle and reins munching away at the grass. Pushing himself back to his feet, Claude heaves himself into the saddle and eases the horse into the forest. From where the sun is and the direction it is travelling, he deduces which way is north and set off. The smell of the forest is enough to make Claude want to bury his face into a pile of leaves. 

_I’ve not been gone for very long, and I’m already grateful to be outside._

_Gods, I can’t imagine Dimitri being stuck in the Fhirdiad cells for longer than a single morning._

_Makes what he went through even more horrifying._

The horse trots on through the forest, with Claude constantly glancing around to ensure no one is around. He rummages around in the saddlebag to find water, food for both him and the horse, a pair of rough spun shoes, and a grey cloak which he drapes over his shoulders. He tries to keep a low profile until he is far enough away from the city, and then urges the horse into a gallop. The horse races through the Adrestian countryside, heading north without Claude’s input. 

_Who were those people who broke me out?_

_Did they plan for this to happen?_

_And they want the Empire to fall._

_Just who are they?_

With Enbarr now in the distance, Claude slows the horse down to a walk, and hops off the saddle. He slips on the shoes, and set off with the reins in his hand. The horse follows behind him, occasionally stopping to have a nibble at a bush or the grass. Though Claude could easily ride on the horse and be at Fort Merceus in no time, he wants to conserve the horse’s stamina for when he needs to make a quick getaway, as the mysterious people were _kind_ enough to leave him without any weapons. Besides, it's hard to miss an entire army marching through the fields. He should be able to spot them, no matter where they are. 

*

Afternoon draws into the early evening when Claude finally reaches Fort Merceus, the flames finally extinguished. Up close, the damage can be assessed. Deep craters that are large enough to fit two-story building cover the ground, the only remnants of the fort being a few half-ruined structures that managed to survive being hit. Claude leads his horse around the ruins, taking care where he steps so he doesn’t slip on the loose dirt and end up spraining an ankle. At the other end, in the distance, he spots a mass of people walking. Getting his hopes up, Claude ventures closer, almost crying with joy when he recognises the uniform of the Alliance. At the front of the army is Dimitri, his weapon shining brighter than the setting sun. Claude lets go of his horse and races towards Dimitri, calling out his name. 

“Dimitri!” Claude halts in front of Dimitri, gripping onto his cloak. To his dismay, Dimitri doesn’t seem to notice him. His eye is focused ahead, and he swats Claude away like a fly. Claude desperately grabs onto Dimitri’s cloak, yanking him around to face him. He doesn’t flinch when Areadbhar comes to close to taking his head off. “Dimitri, it’s me. I’m here.” He strokes Dimitri’s hair out of his face, and pulls his down for a small kiss. Dimitri instantly drops Areadbhar and scoops Claude up into a crushing embrace, lifting his feet off the ground. Dimitri smothers Claude in kisses, whispering his name in between each kiss. Claude wraps his arms around Dimitri’s neck and buries his head into his shoulder, thankful that he has caught up in time to stop Dimitri’s murderous rampage. He holds onto Dimitri like his life depends on it, the fur beneath his face smelling of _home_. Dimitri’s knees give way as he falls to the ground, taking Claude with him. The two of them stay like this for a while, neither one willing to be the first to let go. The army disperses to give them some privacy, opting to set up camp for the night. Dimitri’s shoulders begin to shake as Claude’s nightshirt becomes soaked with tears. Through his own tears, Claude lifts his head up slightly and whispers into Dimitri’s ear: 

“I’ve found us a way into the Imperial Palace.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Update!](https://grumpycupcake94.tumblr.com/post/620104277259649024)
> 
> More work-related woes. Yay! 
> 
> Now excuse me whilst I go eat ice cream out of the tub and play Tales of Vesperia on my Switch. 
> 
> (Originally the second half was going to be fluffy, but then I decided to flip on the Angst(TM) switch, and this is what we've got. Sorry!)
> 
> (And yes, a new direction! What are the Slitherers doing???)


End file.
